I Missed My Chance

"I'm the kid who has this habit of dreaming

Sometimes gets me in trouble too
But the truth is
I could no more stop dreaming
Than I could make them all come true"

THE KID

Buddy Mondlock-

I won't lie, I've never heard this song in my life. But I could have written those lyrics. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a helpless daydreamer and a hopeless romantic. Not in a kissy, kissy, overly affectionate way. In an idealic, leap through a field of flowers whilst changing the world kind of way. It's annoying. I wish so desperately that I could be one of those practical, logical, reasoning, planning people. The organized, this is how it is and this is what we'll do kind of people. Alas, one of my most important goals as of right now is embracing who God has made me and figuring out how to use the gifts and talents He has given me instead of longing for those of others. It's hard, y'all. To complicate my excessive dreaming, I am also a perfectionist. You wouldn't know that if you saw my car which looks like a mini zoo on wheels or my wrinkled, not so put together outfits. But inwardly, I am a perfectionist. I dream up how things should be and then I never accomplish them because I can't do them perfectly and if I can't do them perfectly, why do them at all, right? *Sigh*.

Well, God has been tenderly dealing with me about this issue, and by tenderly I mean that He continues to push me to embrace opportunities that hold no chance of perfection on my part. Two babies during college ensured my life would be much too chaotic to focus my obsessive perfectionism on any area of life. A job in social work with unending challenges and sad situations only God can change consistenly kept me on my knees. Then, He made me a preacher's wife where the possibility of me fulfilling everyone's hopes and expectations is as likely as me winning an Oscar. (For anyone wondering, that equals a 0% chance. :)

I write all of this to share that tonight I am disappointed. In myself. You see, a little over a week ago I got an e-mail from a magazine editor. Yes, you read that right. I myself did not believe it. In fact, I googled the magazine seeking staff information because I just could not believe I would get an e-mail from a magazine editor. I only get e-mails from FB, my Uncle Jamie and Kohl's. I consider it a very special occassion if I get real, not forwarded messages. One from a magazine editor was pretty much an occassion to go out to dinner or something. Well, anyway, it was an editor who got my information through my blog and was letting me know that her magazine was having a poetry writing contest and the prize would be having the poem published and them listing your blog link in the magazine. The prize was not important to me. A MAGAZINE EDITOR e-mailed me!!!!! This may mean nothing to you, and she probably sent e-mails to 150 million other bloggers, but for me, this was a HUGE deal. Because when I talk about being a dreamer, I have to tell you that being published as a writer is top on my list. It's even higher than being a back-up dancer for Tina Turner, and that's a long held dream people. I don't talk about it much, mostly because I feel like I will jinx it or something. Or maybe I'm just afraid you will leave me comments assuring me that I should pursue the Tina Turner thing because the writing thing is just not working out.

Well, my BFF, Karen knows about this dream more than anyone and has been a huge encourager to me.  Last year she gave me several books and magazines about writing and being published and they are such great resources. They also scare the mess out of me. The more I read the more I realize I don't know what the heck I'm doing. When I left my job as a social worker, my first priority was to be a more attentive and devoted Mom, but I was also very serious about writing and seeking to be published. I set goals, I made plans. I haven't followed through with any of them. The most intimidating part of the process for me is not writing, but communicating with editors and publishers. I would rather them not know 2 seconds in that I am clueless and that is for sure what would happen. I literally prayed that if I were supposed to be published someone would find me. (Pause while all of you are laughing your heads off). Yes, I know how crazy that is. Like an editor is going to google: MOTHER OF THREE LIVING IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE WITH NO PROFESSIONAL TRAINING OR EXPERIENCE WHO WANTS TO BE PUBLISHED. But it happened! I mean, I don't know how she found me, but if that is what she googled it would definitely lead to me. :)

I had so many questions. The contest was for poems written in the "Roses Are Red" format. But, I didn't know if there was a word limit or the deadline or anything. Common sense says to e-mail her back and ask, right? If only I had some. I was terrified that she would think I am a complete doofus. How does one e-mail an editor back? I don't exactly have experience with this. Heck, I don't have much experience communicating with people over the age of 3. On top of my fear, I got really sick last week and I mean sick to the point that I don't think I could have written my name, much less a poem. And can I just add that poetry is not my forte. All of that is to say that I am finally feeling better so I decided to just bite the bullet, write a poem and send it off. When I got home from class tonight I sat down at the computer and I remembered I had sent it. (Does that worry you that within a 5 hour time span I could forget something like that? Yeah, me too....) I determined that there was no way a busy editor would have already responded to me and yet, there it was at the top of my inbox. *Deep breaths*. And...............

She thanked me for my note but told me that the deadline was in fact closed for that article.  She did finish by telling me that she would keep me in mind for other stories, but the heartache is still there. I think it is worse than if I had gotten a message saying, "Thanks for submitting your poem, but it is the worst thing I've ever read." Because then, I would have feedback. Then, I would know I had really tried. As it is, I've once again paid for procrastination due to a fear of failure (and THE COLD OF 2010. Have any of you had it? It's miserable.) Still, my cold is no excuse. I still had to teach dance classes and do laundry and feed children. I managed to do all of that. Deep down, it was the fear that I couldn't respond to this request perfectly.

I can honestly say that I started this post for therapuetic reasons. I really just wanted to feel sorry for myself and share with you what a loser I am. I missed my chance. It is easy to feel like there will be no more chances. That my lifelong dreams are crushed and there is no hope of reviving them. Drama much?  Instead, as I write I am reminded of the power of words and what a safe place I find in them. The ability to express thoughts and feelings I find hard to say out loud. The ability to encourage and challenge others. The ability to teach us lessons. I'm learning some hard ones these days. I'm learning the truth of this quote:

"Most people don't recognize opportunity when it comes, because it's usually dressed in overalls and looks a lot like work.”
Thomas Edison
 
Even when an opportunity seems to magically fly out of the sky, dreams don't happen without work. We must be ready for them. For the opportunity and the potential for failure that accompanies them. There was a time when I thought my dreams were only possible if every person believed in my talents and praised me all along the way. Criticism or naysayers were a sign to me that it wasn't meant to be. I'm learning that our dreams belong to us, not to others and that it is our job to perservere until we see them come true. I missed this chance. I won't miss the next one....