It’s a very good place to start…..
I’ve been folding laundry in the privacy of my home for a great many years.
The laundry does not judge me. It is quite safe, the laundry. It’s easy and peaceful and predictable. Except for the missing sock part. That is to say that I’ve been taking care of my family for a very long time… I am the gardener, doing the work behind the scenes (okay also remodeling and designing and building and selling homes, moving eight times in as many years, acclimating and re-acclimating our daughters into their new lives and schools too… but that’s beside the point). My point is that I’ve been safe. It’s been nice. Hard, too. There has been loss and heartache and tragedy, but my days are mostly quiet and lovely.
And then, I read the news. And mostly it’s bad. Like real bad. Like depressing as hell bad. I am happy to see that there are some long overdue, serious conversations on the table. It’s time (or as Oprah would say, “It’s past time.”). The problem is that there is not much conversation happening at all. Mostly yelling and zero listening. It’s fear of course, of not being right, or of losing power, or of too much power, of a million different things. We’ve worked ourselves into quite the frenzy.
But when I close my computer and go out into my life, what I see is mostly good. Good natured people and kindness. Patient people and considerate people, and fun loving and hilarious people. The sweet gal that hands me my drink at Sonic, with purple lipstick and pretty teeth that oozes good energy. People embracing in Target when they see an unexpected friend. The silver foxes with their perfect hair helmets and shimmery manicures, chatting it up in the middle of the grocery store, blocking the traffic with their carts (or, “buggies” as they are called in Texas). Our teachers who see the struggles of those without, and silently do the work of loving them. I have a friend that is in the thick of it out in the mean world of public relations. Social media consumes much of his life, he sees the worst of it. “All class and decorum is lost” he says, after telling me about a particularly repulsive encounter. “But it’s not, don’t forget.” I say. “The good people are just quiet.” “True, but that’s sad.” he says. “Very.” I respond.
And with that, my dear friends, I am responding to the nudges I’ve been feeling to do my tiny little part and shine a light for the good people, like the Lorax when he speaks for the trees. It’s scary because it’s not as safe as the laundry. But, I really feel like if we all collectively hold up our little lights, it will take the power away from the darkness.
I have some projects in the works that I am extremely excited about and can’t wait to share with you. First, though, I had to create a launch pad for said projects – which is the website you are on now. There are no words to explain how humbling it is to try and build a website with ZERO technical skills. My good friend Michael Scott said it perfectly:
To say it was overwhelming is the understatement of the century – it felt as if someone had handed me a book written in Mandarin and asked me to read aloud to the class. There are 9328475 details that go into this process. Y’all, there’s coding involved…. like the kind back in the old school Commodore 64 days (where my 80’s girls at??). It’s a problem. The only skill I have with coding is deleting it. In fact, my younger sister sat down to help me, and at one point pushed a button showing how many times I had accidentally deleted and recreated my logo. At least 30 and I’m not kidding. Because she is the kinder sister, she silently looked up at me and looked back down at the screen. I DO know that kind of code. It’s the silent code for “You’re an idiot”.
This self portrait is entitled “Clueless Lady Builds a Website”. Those pretty pictures of me standing in a field, while my talented friend made me laugh and photographed me doing so took about ten minutes. The technical part of creating this website looks exactly like this. Months of sitting at my dining room table wanting to pull my hair out. Also? There was cursing. Lots. My point is twofold: One, if I can do this, I promise, so you can you. Second, bear with me while I figure this out. I’m sure there are a million grammatical errors and icons you click on that take you exactly nowhere. Bless it.
We can do hard things, people. Starting is always the hardest part. Is there something you’ve been thinking about? I encourage you to go for it. I will be your cheerleader mom in the wings, awkward clapping and watching proudly.
