LITTLE HAUNTINGS
It was one of my first big speaking engagements. I was to share the merits of hard work relating to, “Shaping the career of your dreams.”
Eight hundred young people packed the auditorium.
Just before going on stage, I needed to use the restroom. Badly.
Fortunately, the door was located along the wall adjacent to the stage. No long hallways. Direct access.
As guests were nestling in their chairs, I quickly dashed into the tiny space minutes before I was to begin. I grabbed the seat cover, sat down, and almost immediately felt this warm sensation in my Italian leather flats. With a full-capacity crowd waiting for me, I had just managed to fill up my shoes.
If I have ever given valuable life advise, consider this at the top of the list—punch the center section of the seat cover down before you commence.
We all…every single one of us…have a memory that does its best to hold us back.
Mine is the sound of squishing with each step as I crossed a hushed room.
What would our lives be with the absence of fear? Why does writing this sentence bring a waterfall of tears?
There are few griefs more excruciating than the forsaking of all that I am. How many times have I allowed the things of this world to demoralize and diminish the bold, the power, the passion within?
This week I celebrate the passing of 365 days cancer free. Even with my physical strength returning in bit-sized increments each day, I am surprised at the emotional haunting that whispers to be weary, to go easy, to hold back.
But life in its wisdom, refuses to wait.
I notice the clouds moving furiously forward. Snow melting. A grandson dancing on big-boy toes once tiny and counted, “This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home.”
For a time, I made peace with the disposition of rest, leaning all the way into the safety of its necessity. Now, I sense the comfort, once soft and familiar, is transforming into territory that feels new, unchartered, unmapped.
“The things we fear rarely happen.” Like a cancer, we deny ourselves the fullness of our existence, terrified of stumbling over our words, opening our hearts, speaking what is felt.
When will you begin to live the reality of your largeness in the world?
When will you decide to allow the goodness to seep in?
When will you determine to let go of things that occupy the best of you?
When will the life you were born for begin?
What grand life would we lead by letting go of the travesty of fear of being embarrassed, misunderstood, unliked?
There are great things to fear and yet the Creator of all things declares, “Fear not.”
The world is fearful. We decide if we are…or are not.
That decision is one we may have to make over and over again.
And so we will. And so we must.