Both the kids were asleep and Christian was babysitting with a dead phone when I got the news. There was nothing to do but fling open the back door and stand on the deck whisper screaming so no one would call the cops. I had already decided that I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t make the cut, that I hadn’t heard the Holy Spirit whisper, that I was kidding myself.
But it turns out all those lies I was telling to myself. Those were lies, straight from the pit as I used to say. I texted some of the women in my life, called the first one to respond. I danced around my living room and let my dog use his one good eye to look at me funny. I waited up for Christian so I could tell him like it was really no big deal.
The next day I felt sheepish about it all. I have freinds with reall writing careers, MFAs, and books with their names and pictures on the back. This is one essay on one blog. It doesn’t really even matter. I started keeping it to myself, down playing it when I mentioned it. Your husband is busy and no one else really cares.
But the Spirit broke through, this is a big deal. This does matter, you do matter, Abby, your work matters. So last night when I got the girls we went to Trader Joe’s. Frozen chinese and sparkling wine. The Peanut pushed along the little cart as I put in the groceries. She reached for the 45 dollar bottle of sparkling wine “how bout this one?” “That’s nice honey, maybe when mommy gets a book deal.” We chose a peach one, 5.99. It was delicious. Christian has class until 10 on Tuesdays, so I put the girls to bed while the oven preheated.
I pulled out the fine china. When we got it for a wedding present I always assumed we would use them more. I topped both plates with rice, and everything else finished cooking just as Brooke walked in the door. We drank to the start of something.
I know that I have been called to lead my celebration, but to be honest I don’t always want to. Somewhere along the way I picked up that I should wait until someone else notices, someone else thinks it is important. I have always been a little jealous of people who had no qualms about shouting their own names. But in this season, with the babies, the school, the extra section of 9th grade english, God is calling me to honor myself. Celebrate when I accomplish something.
God wants me to throw my own party, and he wants me to invite Him as the guest of honor.
PS The essay series I have been accepted into is this one. It runs all week and then on Fridays and Saturdays for the next couple months. Mine didn’t make it into this week, but it will come later. Each essay so far has been truly beautiful. You really should check it out.