I am who I am, and that's enough

“Do you swear you are the person you attest to be?”
I read the question on the application again.

“Do you swear you are the person you attest to be?” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud and was tempted to write, “Who else could I possibly be but me?” or “Who do you think I am?,” but I really needed a copy of my college transcript and I doubted anyone in the transcript office at the university was in the mood for humor.

I am who I am.
You are who you are.
Yet, how often we pretend to be someone else!

We pretend we’re happy when we’re not. We pretend to be healthy when we’re not. We pretend everything’s okay when it’s not. We’re afraid someone will talk about us if they really knew us. We’re afraid we wouldn’t be liked or wouldn’t be admired if “only they knew the truth.”

So we hide.
We create lives we show the outside world which hide who we really are. Only problem is, that pretend life never does fit as comfortably as real life. We feel the drain of carrying this other life around with us all the time.

It’s okay to just be you.
You don’t have to be the best housekeeper in town or the bravest lady on the block. You don’t have to be drop-dead beautiful or pretend to have more money than everyone else.

It’s okay to just be you.
It’s okay to get scared when you’re home alone. It’s okay to be lonely when you lose someone close to you. It’s okay to have a problem you don’t know how to fix.

Never be afraid to just be you.
I hope that if I have taught my children nothing else, I have at least inspired this belief in them, penned by Pablo Casals: “Every second we live is a new and unique moment of the universe, a moment that never was before and never will be again. And what do we teach our children instead? We teach them that two and two make four and that Paris is the capital of France. We should say to each of them ‘Do you know who you are? You are a marvel. You are unique. In the millions of years that have passed, there has never been another child like you. "
And, it’s okay to just be you.

When we really want something ... and we don't get it

It was a cold. It was windy. Did I mention it was cold and windy? And, it was the Illinois 4-H State Shooting Sports contest which would determine Illinois' national team. Scattered around the Brittany Park Shooting Sports Park were a hundred kids who really wanted it, really wanted this day to be their day.

Did I mention it was cold and windy?
As I took photos of the top finishers at the end of the day, there were obvious tears of disappointments. They just couldn't help it. They really, really wanted something, and they didn't get it. Did I mention it was cold and windy?

I thought back to other days, days15 years ago, when it was another girl who really wanted something, who tasted victory and wanted each and every time to feast on that the bountiful meal. Relive it with me ...

On Monday, Jenny broke the middle school’s 25-year-old long jump record with a leap of 15 feet—3 1/2 inches. On Wednesday, she couldn’t clear 14 feet. I could see her face from the bleachers when they announced her third-place finish. It wasn’t a look of anger or disappointment; it was pure embarrassment.

“How could I jump so well Monday and so badly Wednesday?” she questioned. Well, sweetheart, not every day is going to be a record-breaking day.

Much of life feels like a Wednesday.

Many days we try hard, put in lots of effort and give it our best just to come in third. Third is a hard pill to swallow for any of us. We want to be first. We want our name in the record books. We want to be known for something. 

But life is not a smooth road. It is full of bends and twists and hills and valleys. Some days are just cold and windy.

There’s nothing like that feeling on those days when it all comes together. Those record-setting days stand out in our memory forever. It’s where we go when we need inspiration, when we need reassurance that we’re okay, when we need comfort for our trouble hearts.

On Friday, Jenny broke the school’s high jump record with a jump of 4 feet—10 inches. On Saturday, I woke her up gently, “Good morning track queen . . . it’s time to do laundry.”

“No one lives on the top of the mountain. It’s fine to go there occasionally —for inspiration, for new perspectives. But you have to come down. Life is lived in the valleys. That’s where the farms and gardens and orchards are, and where the plowing and the work is done. That’s where you apply the visions you may have glimpsed from the peaks.”
—Arthur Gordon in A Touch of Wonder

Things to remember when I’m too old to remind you

I like baths. Hot baths. Pay the extra money to have someone put me in a bathtub versus just giving me a sponge bath. Spend money on things you can enjoy. Enjoy life.

When it doesn’t seem that I remember you, I really do. Believe that.

When I’m gone, physically move closer to each other. You’ll be all each other have. Drop what you’re doing whenever the other needs something. And, don’t wait to be asked to help. Assume they need it. Pride kept me from asking for help way too much. Help others.

When you go on cool vacations, take some of my ashes and scatter them where you’ve been. By the time your life is over, all my ashes should be gone and I will have had a great time. Live boldly.

Don’t let fear ever stop you from trying, even if you’ll look stupid from failing. Be brave.

Don’t rethink decisions. Every time I didn’t go with my gut instinct, I regretted it. The world will tell you differently. Ignore them.

It’s okay to cry. I do it all the time. And, then I feel better without anything else changing except me. Crying isn’t about being weak; it’s about knowing there’s something better out there and wanting to have it. Cry, then make a plan and go get it. Go get some.

Jenny, quit working so much; Wil, work a little more. And, when the pendulum swings, go the opposite direction. Life isn’t so much about balance as it is balancing in the extremes. Walk tall.

Read.

It all seems impossible at first glance. Look past your nose. Figure out a way. The answer is there. Look again.

When God doesn’t seem anywhere, He’s everywhere. Close your eyes and listen.

I was always proud of you, even when you didn’t think you deserved it. I never wanted perfection. I just wanted you to be happy, and we’re all happiest when we’re exceeding past that point where we thought we couldn’t go. Believe in yourself.

This is the front desk with your wake-up call

Written 14 years ago TODAY. I thought you'd find that interesting for Throwback Thursday.

Wake up calls come at the most unexpected times in my life, and the one this week came in the most unusual place—on the highway halfway between Crossville and Carmi.

Thursday, a family of five traveled through the area on a bicycle—one bicycle, built for four, pulling a cart carrying the youngest member of the family. The family had begun its journey April 1—in Vermont—with hopes of reaching Alaska by Aug. 1.

I caught up with the family on Illinois 1 and 14, halfway between Crossville and Carmi. There, on the side of the road, as semis flew by us, I learned a valuable life lesson.

I had forgotten to dream.

The father, Billy Romp, said the trip was the “living out of a dream.” In part, he said, they were making the trip to remind people that dreams do come true.

And then, in the next breath, without skipping a beat, he turned to me and asked “What’s your dream?”

And I said nothing.

My mind raced to think of something. Surely there was something I could say to save face.

Nothing.

In the scramble of living each day, I had given up dreams; and even sadder, I hadn’t even realized it . . . not until that moment. I finished the interview and walked to my car as the question played again and again in my mind; “What’s my dream?”

Our class buried a time capsule with our 20-year predictions. Me? I was going to marry a sailor (he had been my ‘steady’ all through school), have three children and be the first interplanetary journalist. Granted, some dreams aren’t meant to come true, but that youthful dream gave me direction in the coming years, and I know I made decisions based somewhat on those dreams.

Perhaps decisions come so hard lately because there is no dream guiding me. If I’m to move forward, I’m going to have to find my “Alaskan bike trip” and begin to live it.

And, may I ask, what’s your dream?