Chasing After Me

She was about six-years-old and wearing red shorts with a short-sleeved white shirt…the front of her shirt was covered a rainbow bursting out of a giant heart.

I think the shirt was quite telling.

It was like her heart was exploding with all the things that rainbows are to little girls…beauty, hope, promise, mystery…and let’s not forget that pot of gold.

That little girl had a big heart, was filled with ideas, and only knew her passions.

As she aged, the same heart and same rainbow were there. But the beauty, hope, promise and mystery exploding from her heart seemed a bit impractical, less relevant, and definitely naïve. Somehow it all seemed a bit clouded…and, strangely, even further away now that she should have been closer.

It was as if, year-after-year, little-by-little, the bigness of the rainbow was being stuffed back into her heart. Still present, but hidden from plain sight.

The thing about the bigness of a bursting rainbow is: it’s hard to stuff. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Ever. She couldn’t really keep it hidden from others. Curious and observant people could still see it.

But to the six-year-old little girl present in the body of the now 30-something, what she now knew to be beautiful, hope-filled, promise-filled, and intriguingly mysterious, overwhelmed her.

It was all she could think about, but nothing she could let herself do.

Paralysis.

It wasn’t fear of failure. It wasn’t fear of judgment.

It was a question: could what is held in the idealistic heart of a six-year-old really be for life today?

One thing was for sure, all that was longing to explode once again wasn’t anything distance, impracticality, relevance or naïveté could take away.

It’s as if someone intentionally plants desires in young hearts with purpose – so that by the time brains are developed enough to talk the heart out of something, it’s already too deeply ingrained.

There is purity in purpose that comes from this place…I would know, I’m dying to find that shirt once again.

Someone observed something about me last week that was jarring:

I think it’s funny that you talk so much about being an external processor, yet you process things internally a hundred times before you let them out of your mouth.

She was right.

I guess I let the energy I get from being with people, communicating with people, and even simply writing skew my perspective.

The reality is internal or external processing is just that – a process. It’s not good or bad. It’s not stronger or weaker.

The jarring part of what she said is what I realized I let the internal processing do to me.

It. Immobilizes. Me.

Especially in places where I know I’m supposed to be sharing. Like on this blog. Crap, I even have trouble journaling (despite telling everyone I think they should!) because I feel the need for thoughts to be complete first…the need to be formed into something easily digestible, appealing, and certainly important in order to be presented.

Debilitating.

What if I share something that isn’t a complete story? Exposes more weakness or hurt than I’m comfortable with? What if I say something controversial? What if I say something that makes someone angry instead of fulfilled or encouraged? What if I say something plain stupid?

It stresses me out.

Processing holds an important place. But it shouldn’t supersede the processing meant to be shared with others.

So let’s not get in the way of ourselves.

After all, consuming things that are unprocessed mean more nutrients, more vitamins, more strength and, ultimately, more life.

My dear friend Missy Durant is an amazing woman. Her life is overflowing with love and gratitude…and it spreads to everyone she knows. She wrote a book recently, What Matters, and I couldn’t be more excited for her.

I believe in what she’s doing with all of my heart…because it’s beautiful…because I cherish her and her heart.

So, today, I blogged on her web site…take a peek here!

I firmly believe that I’ve got something to learn from everyone.

But, even more powerful, is realizing that every person can inspire you.

Inspiration is what happens when we stop looking at human interactions as transactional. The moment we remember that everyone is a person with feelings…with a story…is the moment their life can change ours…for the better.

Learning from others is amazing. When we learn from others, knowledge fills our brains. But, when we’re inspired we’re compelled to act. Learning keeps us humble…it makes us wise. But being inspired each other helps us live…fully embrace life.

This week I met with a client, her generosity to give others credit for work well done reminds me to always shine a spotlight on others’ accomplishments.

This week a friend of mine told another friend of mine that she was making a difference, her willingness to share that reminds me that a few words of encouragement, even to someone I barely know, can mean the world.

This week I met a priest, his willingness to connect with me reminds me how important it is to keep an open mind and open door…even with strangers.

This week I had lunch with a new friend who shared a lot of her life story with me. Her candor and strength remind me of how important it is to be real.

This week I met with a vendor, his desire to learn more about my needs reminds me of the importance of trust.

This week my husband’s giddiness over seeing his family reminds me of how precious family is.

This week a friend of mine needed to unload some crap. His willingness to lay it all out there reminds me how important it is to not bottle things up.

This week I had dinner with friends who have poured a ton of themselves into a cause they believe in with all of their beings. They remind me of what people can do when they work together with people being their number one priorities.

This week I met a man who left his steady job while he did some soul searching to find something that resonated with his desires deep inside him. His courage reminds me of the importance of embracing who we are at our cores.

This week one of my best friends poured hours of his life into literally rebuilding his family’s home and spent the rest of those hours inspiring a team of people…all while being an amazing husband and father. His dedication reminds me that people are what always matter most.

Those reminders were inspirations…of humanness…of belief…of life…a true depiction of what matters in life. I pray I never stop being inspired by those around me.

Eleven years ago, I dreamed of a family and romantic dates and adventures, all shared with my new best friend.

Today I still dream…I still dream of family…but I dream about the different ways the concept of family lives for us. I still dream of romantic dates and adventures, but they’re no longer checklists of activities and destinations. Instead, they’re dreams of the experiences we’ll have together and memories we’ll make and cherish forever.

Eleven years ago, I wondered what adventures our life together would bring…and wondered how it would be possible to love you more than I did that moment.

Today I still wonder…I still wonder about our adventures…but I wonder about how things we do every day will morph into adventures…how we’ll embrace those adventures…and wonder how we’ll respond. I still wonder about the depth of our love…but wonder how I ever could have thought that what we had back then was the pinnacle…and wonder about the many ways we’ll continue to grow together…and wonder our adventures together will draw us closer and define who we are individually and, more importantly, who we are collectively.

Eleven years ago, joy was bursting from me at the mere thought that I’d found someone like you…who could love me for all of who I was…and someone whom I loved loving.

Today joy still bursts…but joy about spending my life with someone whose brilliance baffles me, whose selflessness inspires me, whose loyalty overwhelms me, and whose mere life makes me want to learn more…love more.

Here’s to dreaming, wondering and embracing joy for eleven more years…times eleven.