If I Am Dreaming, Please Let Me Sleep

Yesterday, I drove the 40-minute trek to a Starbucks in East Cobb.  I was going to meet with Penny, a friend of one of my dear coworkers who also happens to be a publicist.  After three hours of talking about family, friends, relationships, and writing, this is what I learned: she has two brothers who either own or have owned publishing houses, she has worked with authors such as Andy Stanley, Bruce Wilkinson, John Piper, and counts Louie and Shelley Giglio as friends. In a world where who you know seems to trump what you know, meeting with Penny helped me see that having a writing major happened for a reason.

When I went to college, I did not expect to leave with this writing major.  I expected anything but.  Now that I have those three years (I did little writing freshman year) under my belt, I've struggled to figure out what to do with it.  I have very few connections, very little experience within the field (outside of classes that required oodles of peer editing, I haven't had internships or garnered tutoring skills or edited anything of professional value).  I am hardly ambitious and wrestle with inadequacy on a daily basis. When Penny asked me the ultimate question, "If you could do anything right now, what would you do?" I had to answer, "I have no earthly idea."  When she asked me if I was interested in editing or copyediting, I told her that I was very interested, but again I had little experience.  "I know the top editor at a publishing house in Colorado Springs," she told me.  "I will call him and see what it would take to have a recent grad come on as a copy editor."  

Huh?  I sat, stupefied, the ice in my vanilla latte slowly melting in front of my wide eyes. The fact that I am leaving for England in seven months didn't seem to deter Penny from her desire to lay some groundwork as she called it for when I get back.  "I know an editor at Brio [a magazine for teen girls]" she said, "I should call her and see if they would want to have you write some articles for them while you're away in England."  Okay, now this is getting freaky. 

But somehow, it all seemed so right, too.  It is no mistake that I am home for these next few months, no mistake that Penny just happened to start attending my coworkers' small group.  As we connected on so many different levels, I started to see my life beyond where it is now. Watching as my God pulled two strangers together into a likely friendship, I felt abundantly blessed.  For three hours I saw how four years, how 22 years spent running away from and now running toward words may translate into a lifetime of work.  I don't know what will happen as a result of this conversation.  I do know that Penny plans to get together often.  I hope that takes place.  I don't want to waste any time I have left in Atlanta.  I don't want to miss out on the challenges that will come with pursuing things I didn't even know were my passions until this past year.

peace,

liz

If it Happens Again I'm Screamin'

I have to say that my being a size 6 doesn't boost the morale of many women who walk into Talbots. Comparing my body--a collection of limbs and parts that managed to survive adolescence and college with only 15 extra pounds clinging to bones--with that of a woman who has squeezed out four or five children, has developed a strange disease known as wrinkles, and has had a decrease in estrogen and elasticity due to a battle with the blessed menopause seems highly unfair. So stop. Please.

Just let me have a look at you, let me see your battle scars, the marks that make you who you are. And let me be reminded that in thirty years when 15 pounds grows to 30 or when my stretch marks expand and cellulite becomes more prominent than skin, I can remember having seen you, you beautiful, aged women who have worn your years well.  And please, believe me when I tell you that I am not trying to make you look younger: your pants will not sit too low, your shirt will not show sagging cleavage.  I will do my best to hide the bad and highlight the good.  Just let me do my job.  And stop staring at my ass--it isn't a size 2 so you can breathe. It's only a size 6.

I guess I should be writing on here

Ha, who knew that people actually read this?  But now that I know you (Libby and Lise) do I should probably tell you what's going on--even though I expect some phone calls soon!  

My old roommates and I share a blog together where I often write, but I guess I should fill the rest of the world in on life at the moment.

This may come as a shock, but my parents will probably be moving sometime soon (hopefully). Dad finally realized that the whole church plant just isn't going to make it so now it's time to take the next step and find an already established church with an opening.  The only churches within our denomination that have openings are, get this, up north.  There is one in Goshen, IN; Long Grove, IL; Adrian, MI; and a few others.  Ha, how ironic--I knew I was planning on coming back to the Midwest but I didn't know my parents would be joining me!  If they do end up near Indianapolis (where, at this moment, I am hoping to be when I get back from Europe) I'll feel a lot better having them close by.

Speaking of Europe, I am hopefully meeting with someone this week who works with Mom and who I also worked with last summer.  Her husband is from England so she has many in-laws in and around the London area.  I admit I have planned several U.S. trips but never something international!  I feel a little out of my league, and often question why the hell (yeah, I said it) I'm doing this. But then I remember my incredibly supportive parents and how both are probably looking forward to using this trip as an excuse to go to Europe as well.  And I think of the years I have ahead of me to work and earn money and how this is just something I have to do as either one last wild adventure before adulthood, or the first of many more.  I think the things I will learn there will be invaluable to my spirituality.  Anyway, with that said, I am saving and saving and will hopefully get there in January.  Sorry for such a long post, but I figured some of my dearest friends would want to know (again, b/c my phone doesn't ring very often!)

peace,

liz