Sometimes doors open when you least expect it.
Know those people who struggle for the right words? I'm hoping a certain Mary Poppins song is now playing in your head. You're welcome.
For as long as I can remember, I've been quick-witted. No, this is not arrogance, I really am fast on my feet. I'm not George Costanza contemplating the ultimate comeback three hours later. I'm dishing it right back out to you.
The problem is that I overshare and can make it weird. My proverbial train jumps the tracks way more than it gets to the destination safely.
We recently kicked off our third year as small group hosts, welcoming upwards of 20+ adults, and 14ish kids, most of whom have never met us before or are new to our church and community. How did I break the ice?
I let them know we were so happy to have them, and that I would be awkward for all of us, so they should relax and enjoy themselves. And that they're always welcomed to stop by, but please call, as I rarely wear pants if it's not Sunday.
In my defense, I wear a lot of long dresses around the house. No, I don't wear moo-moos. Imagine flowing Bohemian cotton dresses that would flutter in the breeze on a windy day. I keep it super casual on Camara Court. If I dress, I dress well. But if I'm home, the cat doesn't care what I'm wearing.
Our small group study this semester has been Nate Ruch's Redwood Faith. If you have access to RightNow Media, may I suggest you spend a little time on this series?
Basic premise: the giant redwood trees (or sequoias if you prefer) that grow in California, their roots only extend six feet into the ground. What? How do these massive trees stay upright? They interweave their roots together to become a network. They support and hold each other up. They're made stronger by connecting to others.
Whoa. That's like an introvert's worst nightmare! You want me to meet people? And listen to them? AND TALK ABOUT MYSELF? Oh, how awkward.
My revelation about having a pants-off dance-off doesn't seem so bad now, does it?
I made a big leap this past May when I left my career in communications to become a full-time (aspiring) writer. Has it been exhilarating and fun? Absolutely. Has it been easy? Not really.
At this year's Kentucky Christian Writer's Conference, Florida-based publisher EA Books had an intriguing contest open for new writers: send us a story and we'll publish it as part of an anthology entitled Blessings in Disguise.
I thought about the stories in my brain - that beloved burlap sack of feral cats. Having worked in communications for nearly 20 years, I always knew what the story would be, just articulating it in a thoughtful, insightful way was the burden.
Writing for myself, I often struggle with the basic questions all beginning writers ask themselves- what do people want to know? What would actually make an impact on their lives while risking my tender and fragile self-esteem? Can I handle rejection and worse, apathy when I've poured my heart into a piece of work?
I prayed and meditated on the anthology title and realized there was one moment in my life that was a blessing in disguise, and it was the day I met my husband.
For those of you unfamiliar with our love story - he held the door open for me the day I moved into my dorm at Western Kentucky University. It wasn't the ideal Hollywood meet-cute as I was swearing and covered in sweat, but within days, we became great friends.
I'd love to tell you that's the Cliffs Notes of our story, but that would sell my dearest husband's rocky road to that door unbearably short.
Tomorrow, we leave for Vanderbilt University and Friday, he is undergoing another procedure related to a terrifying diagnosis he received in 1996. Cancer.
I realized the road that led him to me was a blessing in disguise. A cruel, double-edged sword that allowed him to meet his future quick-witted, pantsless wife, but was a huge stumbling block in one of the most vulnerable times in life.
He's handled it all with the determination and strength of someone who isn't defined by a word. Or frankly, an incredibly unfair illness. He's intent on living life to the fullest extent. Cancer could have clipped the wings of a lesser person, but not my husband. He's one of the kindest, most compassionate people I've ever met. He continues to inspire and challenge me daily. He's not a blessing in disguise. He is singularly the greatest blessing in my life.
And I want to honor him in everything I do. I sincerely hope you enjoy reading this story.
SO! If you're interested in purchasing a copy what will hopefully be followed by many, many more of my words in print, I'll make a deal with you. I'll personalize it. I'll either hand-deliver or mail it directly to you. And every single dime is going to The American Cancer Society in honor of this incredible man. I'm asking $10, which I feel is a very reasonable amount, but I'm willing to throw in lunch or coffee to sweeten the deal if you're on the fence.
We recently celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary and I have to admit, I think the themed anniversary gifts were imagined by a sadist. Tell me what red-blooded American man wants a gift made of linen or silk?
Ever the sharpest wife, I found something on Etsy that would do. It's the GPS coordinates to the place we met: our beloved WKU college dorm, Florence Schneider Hall.
It was there, against all odds, he stood holding the door open for me my very first day as I was moving in.
Some may consider the opening of a door to be a symbolic new beginning. For me, I always think of the thousands of events that led you to that moment if your life, and how drastically different your future can be because of one choice. One moment. One chance encounter.
I'm so glad I don't have to imagine a life lived without Brian. And my heart mourns for those who were taken from us entirely too soon because of that horrible word.
I wish you peace, love, and healing. And I shamelessly ask if you can spare some for my beloved in the coming days, too.
Thanks for reading!
~ Christy
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