So many of you have been excited for me and congratulating me on the news that my first essay will be published in an online literary journal in November. It’s been a much needed bright spot this last couple of weeks. Over the years, you’ve read my indulgent blog posts and have been gracious in your compliments and encouragement. It may have taken reading my work to a roomful of strangers and receiving positive feedback to give me that final boost of confidence I needed to send my writing out into the world. But if you’ve read and commented on anything I’ve ever posted, know that you have contributed to that slow rise of courage within me, and I am grateful. Today, I want to talk about three of my biggest supporters.
Reagan has been genuinely interested in my endeavors for years. She reads my blog and encourages my singing. When I quit chorus because it was interfering with my attendance at the kid’s games or performances, she was disappointed. She knew how much singing meant to me, and she didn’t want to be the reason that I stopped doing something that made me so happy. She made me promise to go back after she graduated high school, so I plan to be back on the risers very soon. She looked forward to reading my Things That Made Me Happy Today lists, and she wishes I still wrote them. She thought it was great that I signed up for the writing class at our library. After I read an essay in class, I sent her a Snapchat telling her about how well it was received. She was so excited!
She was the second person I told when I got the notification that my essay would be published. She was so proud of me, she bragged about it on Instagram.
Our mother/daughter relationship is all that I’d hope it would be. It’s a bond built on mutual love, trust, and respect. She is the main reason I’m writing. I want to preserve history for her and any children she may have. To know that she’s pulling for me, I am even more motivated to accomplish my goal.
No one believes in me more than Tim does. I swear I don’t remember this, but he says that he was the first to tell me about Metro Nashville Chorus (because one of his coworkers was a member) and suggest that I look into it. I didn't. A couple years later when a friend heard about MNC and wanted us to check it out, I wasn’t sure I was good enough to audition. Tim knew I had the talent within me, and he thought chorus was a great way to exercise that talent. He gave me the confidence to try out. He tells me that I have a knack for storytelling. Any time I’ve joked about writing a book, Tim has always been quite serious when he replies, “You should!” When I decided to take the plunge and write that book, he grinned and said, “I think it’s a great idea!” When I told him there was a 5-week course at the library on How To Write A Memoir, but I was hesitant to sign up because I’d have to read a sample of my work to the class, he said, “Do it!!” When I read in class and got great feedback, I texted Tim the next day to say that I thought I might submit the essay to a couple of publications. Again, his reply was, “Yeah. That’s a great idea!” After I’d stared, stunned and mouth agape, at my computer screen for several minutes reading the acceptance letter that my essay would be published, I went to our bedroom, stood at the foot of our bed, and said quietly, “I did it”. He was still in bed, but awake and on his phone. He’s said, “Did what?” I said, “I’m going to be published”. He flipped on the light, saying “Oh wow!!” He gave me a high five, which was all the enthusiasm I would expect at 6AM on a Saturday morning. A week later, Reagan and I heard Rainbow Rowell speak. I told Tim afterwards about a couple of technical questions from the audience about writing. I said, “The answers weren’t relevant for me, since I don’t write fiction.” Without hesitation, Tim said, “You don’t YET.” Writing class helped me over that final hurdle; my fear of rejection. I never would have thought I was good enough without the groundwork that was laid by my supportive husband. In fact, every single thing I’ve accomplished that I was initially too scared to tackle, happened only because Tim was behind me saying, “You should do this! You CAN do this!”
Tim called his mother the day I got the email about publication. Her response was, “I KNEW IT!!” For years, my mother-in-law has watched me scrapbook the kids’ lives, keep meticulous notes about Pierce’s extensive tests and medical history, and prepare for annual IEP meetings. She told me when the kids were little that she saw me writing a book someday about parenting a child with autism. I laughed it off. Time and time again, I would tell her my fears and doubts about all that was going on with Pierce and our future with him. Never once did she try to solve my problems or give me unsolicited advice. Instead, she made sure that I knew what a wonderful mother and wife she thought I was, and how confident she was in my ability to advocate for Pierce. I know I can’t possibly be as awesome as she thinks I am. I know I’ve made mistakes, and there’s no way I’m anywhere close to the ideal mom she proclaims that I am. But from the day I walked into her life, she has done nothing but focus on my strengths and all of the things I’ve managed to do right. If she notices the chinks in my armor, she doesn’t waste a breath telling me how I need to repair them. She has never asked or expected me to be better than or more than. We don’t chat often due to our busy schedules, but when we do communicate, she never fails to tell me how proud she is of me. A couple of days after Tim called his mom to give her the news, she sent me two emails.
First email:
I am not physically able to do cartwheels and handstands, but in my mind and imagination I am doing them now. I am so thrilled with the news Tim shared about your writing getting the all important acceptance letter! Wow and yippee and every other exclamation of joy and celebration I can think of! I knew years ago that it would happen. I've watched you be the marvelous woman, wife, and mother. Oh so many years ago I said to you: someday you'll write the book that will help others. Whether it will be a brief story or a whole book, your words will bless every reader. I can't tell you when I've been so thrilled and giddy over something. Yeah for you! Cheers and much love!
Second email:
I take turns in a rotation teaching my Sunday School class. I've mentioned you and your gifts...especially your efforts of encouraging the formation of a support system to families with special needs at church that will give them the gift of community and worship. While we gathered last week I shared your acceptance letter with my co-teacher partner and she asked me to share with everyone when she got to a certain point in her lesson about pure joy. I did. My class of over 50 people broke into applause. Many have spoken to me individually since to express their pure joy for you. We continue to celebrate your gifts and their use.
I'm still tenderly clutching to my hope of that book we spoke of years ago...the book that encourages families and caregivers with strategies and hope. You have lived it all with grace, diligence, and beauty. You are a model of 'how you do it' when faced with an unexpected diagnosis that changes the entire trajectory of dreams and plans. You are my champion and I take every opportunity to sing your praise.
I can sum it up in three words: you go girl!
Much love!
I hope you have a cheering section. Everybody needs one. Mine is larger than these three people; this blog post isn't big enough to call all of them by name. Not everyone I know wants to sit in this section. When I receive messages of doubt and negativity from either those people that choose to sit elsewhere or from my own brain, I just need to call on the people in my corner who will help me see through the horsecrappery. These same people will gently speak truth to me when I lose my way, and if I fail, they will never say, “I told you so”. I have the courage to try new and scary things, because I have a cheering section that makes me believe I can succeed.
