This is it right here.
This is what I always hoped for.
*Please don't mind the fact that he looks like he's selling I Can't Believe It's Not Butter... or a romance novel.
Our apartment is a disaster. I am covered in paint. It's almost midnight and instead of getting ready for bed I'm drinking a cup of coffee. (Always a good sign.)
My toenails have a scary reverse French tip thing going on, meaning the paint has slowly worked its way to the tips it's been so long since I touched them up. (TMI yet? I thought it was an interesting observation. Don't get me started on my legs!)
There are dishes piled up in the sink. And half-done DIY projects all over our floors. A stack of DVD's we keep saying we'll watch are about to topple over by the tv...
And where is my husband in all this chaos?
*No; he's not fist bumping MLK as I type.
He's in our orange chair, the one I've been "meaning to" get recovered since I bought it.
He's playing his guitar, and wracking his brain for lyrics, all in preparation for tomorrow night's show. (His first as a solo artist.)
And why could I not be happier that our life is such a mess?
That it's looking like an all-nighter, and of us in separate corners no less?
Because...
This is the dream come true.
At least for me.
It's each of us, doing what we love. Together. As a couple.
It's hard to explain how difficult its' been getting here. And I can't guarantee myself or you that it will be like this often.
I for one tend to shy away from my dreams, particularly if they're big. And especially when even a modest amount of creativity - much less self revelation - is required.
But seeing my husband chase his dreams. Seeing him pour himself out through song - and recognizing how brave he is to do that - has not just inspired but compelled me to do the same.
After all, I can't honesty encourage him to pursue what he loves, if I am too chicken to step out of the sidelines.
If I'm going to ask him to give of himself that way - to use the gifts he's clearly been given. Then I too must give of myself. Because that is what he needs. That is what I need.
And frankly, it's what the world needs.
I'm entering cliche territory here. In fact I've probably said it before on this tiny little blog.
But it's something that bears repeating.
And something my soul desperately needs to be reminded of frequently.
"What the world needs is people who have come alive."
Does that resonate with you the way it does me?
Funny that a quote I've heard often I've never been able to attribute until tonight.
And even now that I know his name - Howard Thurman - I still don't know much about the man. Only what a little Google searching has taught me (which is actually quite fascinating).
I can't say for fact if he was a "saint." If he was a good dad to his two daughters. Or if he was a morally upright guy, the kind we "good girls" are supposed to look to for advice. (Though all signs point to yes.)
I do know that along with impressive personal achievements, graduating valedictorian of Morehouse college, being ordained as a minister and authoring 20-or-so books, perhaps his most crowning achievement was helping to mentor and shape a certain man by the name of Martin Luther King Jr.
In fact, according to Wikipedia (which I KNOW, isn't the best source but it's late so I need some grace on this,) "Walter Fluker, who has studied Thurman's writings, has stated, 'I don't believe you'd get a Martin Luther King, Jr. without a Howard Thurman.'"
And that amazes me.
A man dedicated his life to teaching and preaching and... his ultimate legacy came not from his name, but someone who followed in his shoes. Who learned from him.
Isn't it crazy the power of influence?
Tonight I'm utterly grateful that my husband's influence has led me to pursue some of my own long dormant passions. To step out in faith and dare to do things I've been longing to do for ages - like spraypaint! (So risky. :) )
And, there is this. The hacking away in an effort to really write. To pour out my soul in mostly non-sensical, yet still somehow freeing "written" words.
Yes; he has greatly encouraged me to stick with the writing.
Now I don't know what it is you might be afraid to do. If it involves putting yourself out there in a big way, like going on stage or asking someone out. Or scarier still, admitting a wrong.
Maybe you're dorky enough to have some of the same fears of me, like drip lines on a craft project... oh the horror!
But whatever it is that you're avoding - and potentially hating yourself for - I do HOPE you might muster up just enough courage to take a baby step towards your goal.
I HOPE you might give yourself permission to pursue something you truly love. Something that makes you feel most yourself. (Assuming it's not killing people or tattoing dogs or something.)
And, I HOPE, how I HOPE, that you might find yourself blessed with the kind of good friends - and family - that influence you in just such a postive direction.
That way, you might someday find yourself in a position to pay that forward, encouraging someone else to pursue a dream.
