She hates me, you know? There’s a girl out there that hates me, spews nasty things out of her sweet mouth about me to all of her friends, and she actively campaigns to turn new friends against me.
The thing about this girl that hates me so much?
I don’t ever think about her.
Tonight, Craig and Tuck were wrestling on the couch, and in between giant Thor punches, Craig and I were talking about agents and book deals and wild, crazy dreams. We were talking about what if’s and game plans and next steps and he chewed his lip like he does when he thinks hard on something.
He is in my corner harder than I am. He chews his lip and he fights for my dream even when I don’t think I have it in me.
I say, “What if they hate it?” And he dodges another thrown punch from my favorite Captain America and he tells me they don’t matter.
This girl hates me so much that others have started to see it, too.
They whisper to me, “Becky. Do you see this?”
And I whisper back, “No.”
I called my mom today and told her I was ready to step into the public speaking arena and I was ready to tell my story.
I called my mom today and I told her I had a vision and a plan and a dream and maybe people would think I was crazy.
“Do you think I’m crazy?” I asked my mom.
“Never,” she answered.
There’s a girl that’s out there that hates me more than she hates anything else in this wild, holy, beautiful world, and I don’t see her because I’m too damn busy trying to own my own lane.
We’ve all got a group of people that will never clap for us. We’ve all got a group of people that will never help us. We’ve all got a group of people waiting to yank out their cameras to document the exact moment that we fail.
Keep your head down.
Keep your eyes focused forward.
The sweeties that are too busy figuring out how to not clap for you?
One day they’ll look around at their empty room and realize that they forgot to clap for themselves.
Maybe he won’t be a rockstar. Maybe he won’t bang his wooden sticks high over his head in front of a crowd. Maybe he won’t pound his foot on a pedal, and maybe he won’t bounce his head to waves of cheers.
But he could.
Maybe he won’t be an academic. Maybe he won’t cure cancer, maybe he won’t write for journals, and maybe he won’t roll up his sleeves on the front lines of science, and maybe he won’t cut his teeth behind microscopes.
But he might.
Maybe he won’t be a pastor. Maybe he won’t preach from a wooden pulpit worn from years of use. Maybe he won’t hold hands with sinners and preach about prodigal sons, Ruth, and floods. Maybe he won’t raise his voice in testimony and maybe he won’t lower his voice in prayer.
But he could.
Maybe he won’t be a doctor - a healer of wounds. Maybe he won’t stitch up the broken, maybe he won’t fight for lives, and maybe a white jacket isn’t in his future. Maybe he won’t snap on gloves and hold a scalpel.
But he might.
Maybe he won’t be an Olympic athlete. Maybe the Friday night lights are the only lights in his future, and maybe he won’t be cheered on by a nation. Maybe he won’t stick his feet in starting blocks, or tattoo rings on his ankle.
But he could.
Maybe he’ll never be a dad. Maybe he’ll never hold little hands in his and maybe he’ll never wake up in the middle of the night for a diaper change and maybe he’ll never stoop his shoulders at the end of the day in eternal gratitude for his full hands.
But I hope he will.
Maybe he’ll walk through this entire life without making a world altering contribution. Maybe he’ll just step through his days and sleep through his nights knowing that he’s good.
Maybe he’ll help his neighbors and meet the needs of strangers.
Maybe he’ll hold his hands wide open.
Maybe he’ll close his eyes and say a whispered prayer for you and me.
That’s good enough for me.
He promised he'd be my biggest cheerleader. That he'd be the one clapping the loudest, the one yelling the loudest, and the one in the center of the arena with me. He promised to hold my shaking hand, he promised to always nod his head yes at me. He promised to sing that anthem in my ear a little louder on the grey days.
He promised to make me a better person. He promised to help me keep my eyes pointed forward. He promised to help me stay focused, he promised to help me take bigger, scarier, more exhilarating steps. He promised to always have one hand on my back pushing me ahead.
He promised to love my little boy. He promised to mentor, to guide, to whisper soft encouragement. He promised that he'd be there on the in between days, the bad days, and the thank God that this is our life days. He promised to help me raise him up in love, in compassion, and through the fire.
He promised Sunday breakfasts.
He promised honesty.
He promised to push his fingers through my blondish hair, and he promised to never run.
He never promised me perfection. Instead, he promised slow conversations. Hard conversations. Faithfulness. Assurance. He promised to live to a drum beat that only we can hear.
And I'm no expert, but those sound like pretty great vows to me.
ETA: Not married yet, mom. ♥️
Five V. Important Reminders:
1. When I was an eighth grader, I didn’t make the high school cheerleading squad. I remember napping on the couch and the sponsor called to tell me. We tried out in front of the whole school, and the students and teachers voted. And they didn’t vote for me. I had been a cheerleader since second grade and it didn’t seem fair because I was good at it. I hung up the phone and burst into tears because failure sucks a lot when you’re 13. My parents rallied my brother and I that weekend, and they sprinted us away on a long weekend trip. The four of us did the things and laughed and that’s sort of the point right? There’s a great big world out there beyond us. Sometimes we’ve just got to be reminded to live it.
2. I am obsessive when it comes to writing things down. Snippets of conversation. Quotes from people on TV. My notes app is full of one liners and ideas and inspiration. And last night, Craig and I were talking about life and his gruff, tired voice said, “They’re not out in front of you. You only need to focus on what’s out beyond you.” And in green pen, I scribbled that into the blank Tuesday section of my calendar. There’s a great big world out there beyond us. Sometimes, we need to be reminded to go out and chase it.
3. My aunt is in town this weekend. She’s a wealth of family knowledge, and last night, we stayed up late talking. We talked about people that were gone long before I was, and she smiled when she spoke of her grandparents. She spoke about my great-grandpa and his beautiful home next to the lumber yard and how easy it was growing up in that tiny town and I hardly knew him and it reminded me - there’s a great big world out there beyond us. Sometimes we need to be reminded that we’re paving a way for people to follow.
4. A girl emailed me late last week and because of Homestock, I just got around to it. She was sad, and she’s in the middle of an angry divorce and there is a ton of back and forth going on with her social media and him and the “new her”. It's consumed her, but it reminded me -- there’s a great big world out there. Sometimes, we need to put our phones down and realize it.
5. I was born on Guam. I’ve been to Australia and New Zealand in the summer. I’ve been to Mexico. I’ve had churros in Spain, and croissants on a busy street in Pairs. I’ve stood in front of the Mona Lisa, and shoved my toes in the Bahamian sand. I’ve watched the changing of the guards in Washington DC and in Monaco. I’ve eaten my weight in pasta in Italy. I’ve walked down the streets of New York City barefoot at 2 am, and worn Mickey ears at Disney in Florida. I’ve felt the cool waters of the California Pacific lap at my feet and I’ve felt the vastness of the Rockies. I’ve even been to Dollywood. There’s a great big world out there, you know? And it's taken me seeing all of the whole world out there to know that sometimes? Sometimes all you need is a couch and a warm shoulder to rest your head on at the end of a hard day.
This one is for the dreamers - for the dig down deep believers. For the two a.m. thinkers, and the never stop fighting achievers. This is for the all night survivors and the bottom of the barrels still-want-to-be-alivers. For the ones that know how to live and die by promises; for the ones that still know how to cross their hearts and hope their legends never die.
This is for the torch bearers, the light bringers, and the broad shouldered bitches that show up to the arena early. For the ones that don’t keep count because the count doesn’t matter, and for the ones that search the horizon and ignore all of the pointless chatter.
This is for the tenacious, audacious girls that don’t need your dull crown because they brought their own, and this is for the ones that bear scars like a holy battle cry to the forlorn.
Don’t you ever start listening to those naysayers, or those bar fight bottle breakers. Don’t you ever start listening to the people that smile behind their self-made castle gates - their arms too weak to even climb up and out of their own fates.
You grit your teeth, smart girl, and you tighten your grip. And even if you slip just a bit, there’s no reason to ever stop inching your way forward. Cast off your self-doubt like the pebbles you sunk at camp, and step out of your fear. Mountains can be crossed and you can voyage over every ocean on this earth.
And if you stop and listen to the back breakers or knee cutters or brawl bringers, you won’t have the time you need to be the
you were born to be.
. About Moi .
I love, love, love flannel sheets and I am really passionate about lists on post it notes and most of the time I'm sad that no one else is as excited as I am about Diet Mountain Dew. I also adore run-on sentences. And if you need an awesome virtual assistant, who is full of personality and really good jokes? Email me. I'm your girl.
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He saw her before he saw
anything else in the room.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald
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