Thursday, February 25, 2010
My family took me to the fair when I was four. It was hugely full of smells and colors and sounds. I wanted to see the horses, so I went, oblivious that my people had gone a different direction.
All I could see were shoes and legs.
Being lost is the end of everything when you're four.
Suddenly, a gangly person balanced on the tallest wooden legs I had ever seen was promising to help me find my people.
When you are suddenly lifted on stilts above the four year-old's view of feet and legs, everything feels better.
Perspective is my theme this week.
I was feeling a little lost after news of my novel submission -
several rejections so far, and more submissions and waiting.
I had a glorious pity party: threw cake and popped balloons,
"What makes you think you're cut out to be a writer anyway?"
and other cheerful motivational talks,
when I felt a little tug.
A reminder of November 2009.
Our daughter "Pip" had to have a bundle of tests to search for cancer.
This while also waiting to hear if cutbacks would be affecting my husband's job.
And after tense, heavy weeks of waiting, we had completely beautiful news:
a healthy daughter.
And Mr. Pray got to keep his job.
If I can be thankful for the good things and the great things
I will be lifted on stilts,
to see that even when times are rough,
there are sacred moments to hang on to.
That when the view seems narrow
or small or confusing or wretched,
there is a bigger picture at work.
Bigger hands that can lift us up. That's my hope.
And as far as the rejections go, I will try to remember that this is one tiny keyhole of the big picture.