First of all thank you for taking care of me the past few days. I know it's not been easy on you juggling work, motherhood, and at times a negligent husband. I apologize for making your job tougher.
Second, I'm sure you're realizing how hard this has all been on me as well, not being able to contribute and all. I've felt kind if useless at times, and we both know how I get when I'm bored ci find stuff to get into.
Finally, I have a request. Really a plea for help. You want me to relax, but the conditions for relaxation aren't ideal right now. I need our friends. Or your idea of a picnic. Something to take my mind off of what's going on. A shopping trip perhaps. I know it's a lot to ask, but unless you want to come home and see the garage cleaned out again...I need something to keep me distracted. A play date perhaps? Lol.
At any rate, this week has solidly affirmed for me how great you are. I hope you get some of the rest you need and deserve soon.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
This I believe
So today we were prompted to write a story about something we came to believe in. Here's what I came up with.
Why I believe in the power of my own story:
It was the fall of 2002 and I was sitting in the downtown headquarters of the Coca Cola Company. I was going through some coke scholar applications, sorting, inputting data. There were stacks upon stacks if papers around me. From my large cubicle area, sitting in my oversized maroon leather chair looking out to the open center space, i could see piles more to open on the table. It was going to be a long afternoon. Mundane, boring stuff.
Except for the reading of the applications themselves. Now that could prove entertaining. Sometimes I'd get a kick out of what these young eager kids would write (who was I to talk? I was only months removed from high school myself!). Other times I was truly moved by the caliber of individuals applying. Sometimes it made me question the validity of my own acceptance to this prestigious program.
So one day, in the midst of opening other people's applications and reading their stories, for some reason I decided to read my own. Surprisingly it didn't take much effort to find my application from the previous year. I wanted to block out all the comparisons to these phenomenal applicants I'd just been reading about, but it was difficult to do. Instead, I found myself not measuring up in many categories. I didn't have the pedigree, SAT scores, or hadn't traveled extensively. However just when I began to feel "less than" I noticed a comment in my application by an evaluator.
It read:
"This young man has an inspiring story. We should give him a chance."
I think about how over the years that one line of recognition has been affirmed by countless others, myself included. Yet, how in that moment in 2002, when I felt most out of place, I was validated by my own story. That was the first time that I stopped viewing my past as something to run from or hide. And instead I began learning how to actively leverage my narrative towards productive ends. That's when I learned the power of my own story, and why I believe in sharing it.
Why I believe in the power of my own story:
It was the fall of 2002 and I was sitting in the downtown headquarters of the Coca Cola Company. I was going through some coke scholar applications, sorting, inputting data. There were stacks upon stacks if papers around me. From my large cubicle area, sitting in my oversized maroon leather chair looking out to the open center space, i could see piles more to open on the table. It was going to be a long afternoon. Mundane, boring stuff.
Except for the reading of the applications themselves. Now that could prove entertaining. Sometimes I'd get a kick out of what these young eager kids would write (who was I to talk? I was only months removed from high school myself!). Other times I was truly moved by the caliber of individuals applying. Sometimes it made me question the validity of my own acceptance to this prestigious program.
So one day, in the midst of opening other people's applications and reading their stories, for some reason I decided to read my own. Surprisingly it didn't take much effort to find my application from the previous year. I wanted to block out all the comparisons to these phenomenal applicants I'd just been reading about, but it was difficult to do. Instead, I found myself not measuring up in many categories. I didn't have the pedigree, SAT scores, or hadn't traveled extensively. However just when I began to feel "less than" I noticed a comment in my application by an evaluator.
It read:
"This young man has an inspiring story. We should give him a chance."
I think about how over the years that one line of recognition has been affirmed by countless others, myself included. Yet, how in that moment in 2002, when I felt most out of place, I was validated by my own story. That was the first time that I stopped viewing my past as something to run from or hide. And instead I began learning how to actively leverage my narrative towards productive ends. That's when I learned the power of my own story, and why I believe in sharing it.
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