The Right Time
I tend to be fascinated by the concept of time. First, I'm a really visual person, so I see time as a line stretching forward or backward in my mind (much the way I see the book I'm writing, like a movie in my head). It's amazing how time can seem to flash by or creep along; although, I know it's moving at the same speed. Second, I learned a while back that there's never enough time in a single day to accomplish everything I need to do. Third, the timing of many things is simply out of our control.
Yes, I know. A tad philosophical, but I'm teaching transcendentalism . . . what do you expect?
A colleague of mine recently adopted a baby. This precious little boy has been much hoped for, following years of disappointments, including a failed adoption. This time two years ago, I sat at a picnic table behind the school and listened to my friend talk about her frustration at wanting something everyone around her seemed to have (we'd had seven pregnancies on staff that year!), something that seemed permanently out of her reach.
I smiled at her. "Let me tell you my story, especially what Kelli (a mutual friend) had to say."
She gave me that look, the one that said, You have two of what I want . . . how can you understand? But she listened anyway.
So I told her of six years of trying to have a baby. Six years' worth of false hopes and negative home pregnancy tests, of tests and doctors being unable to find anything wrong, of not having the money for fertility options or a private adoption. Of watching babies hungrily and looking at their mothers and wondering Why them and not me?
I told her of having Kelli come to me and tell me she was pregnant. We worked together, and she was unmarried, not a good situation in our corner of the South, even in the 1990's. The irony of our situation wasn't lost on her, either. I remember looking at her and thinking . . . you guessed it . . . Why her and not me?
Oddly enough, despite my own pain and disappointment, I was happy for her. She was my friend, and I was happy for her.
Well, a week later, it was me.
Six years of trying, and when I'd finally given up . . . I was pregnant.
Kelli and I went through our pregnancies together. Hers was troubled by health and workplace issues, and she told me later she believed there'd been a reason why I'd had to wait for my baby. My "right time" had been when she needed me most, to support her through an unexpected pregnancy.
So I sat in the sunshine and told my friend that story, told her that her own "right time" would come.
Her right time turned out to be February, with the arrival of a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby boy.
When I look at that timeline stretching out in my head, I can see how so many things throughout my life have fallen into place, how everything that occurs in our lives seems to be orchestrated to bring us to certain points at certain times.
I think there's a lot to be seen of that in the whole writing-for-publication deal. You know the drill -- getting the right manuscript in front of the right person at the right time. We can't know that right time, and we can't force it. We can work toward it. We can hone our skill. We can keep on going, even when we want to give up.
We get disappointed. We deal. We move on.
In the last week or so, three great friends have all gotten something I want very, very much.
The weird thing is that I never thought Why her and not me? this time around. I was simply excited for my friends who'd worked hard, persevered and hit that magical "right time."
Because it's not my "right time" yet. I don't know where on that imaginary time line it is or even if it's really there.
I just know I'm in for the whole trip, and I'm going to enjoy the ride, quit worrying so much about the map or how long it takes to get there.
Yes, I know. A tad philosophical, but I'm teaching transcendentalism . . . what do you expect?
A colleague of mine recently adopted a baby. This precious little boy has been much hoped for, following years of disappointments, including a failed adoption. This time two years ago, I sat at a picnic table behind the school and listened to my friend talk about her frustration at wanting something everyone around her seemed to have (we'd had seven pregnancies on staff that year!), something that seemed permanently out of her reach.
I smiled at her. "Let me tell you my story, especially what Kelli (a mutual friend) had to say."
She gave me that look, the one that said, You have two of what I want . . . how can you understand? But she listened anyway.
So I told her of six years of trying to have a baby. Six years' worth of false hopes and negative home pregnancy tests, of tests and doctors being unable to find anything wrong, of not having the money for fertility options or a private adoption. Of watching babies hungrily and looking at their mothers and wondering Why them and not me?
I told her of having Kelli come to me and tell me she was pregnant. We worked together, and she was unmarried, not a good situation in our corner of the South, even in the 1990's. The irony of our situation wasn't lost on her, either. I remember looking at her and thinking . . . you guessed it . . . Why her and not me?
Oddly enough, despite my own pain and disappointment, I was happy for her. She was my friend, and I was happy for her.
Well, a week later, it was me.
Six years of trying, and when I'd finally given up . . . I was pregnant.
Kelli and I went through our pregnancies together. Hers was troubled by health and workplace issues, and she told me later she believed there'd been a reason why I'd had to wait for my baby. My "right time" had been when she needed me most, to support her through an unexpected pregnancy.
So I sat in the sunshine and told my friend that story, told her that her own "right time" would come.
Her right time turned out to be February, with the arrival of a dark-haired, dark-eyed baby boy.
When I look at that timeline stretching out in my head, I can see how so many things throughout my life have fallen into place, how everything that occurs in our lives seems to be orchestrated to bring us to certain points at certain times.
I think there's a lot to be seen of that in the whole writing-for-publication deal. You know the drill -- getting the right manuscript in front of the right person at the right time. We can't know that right time, and we can't force it. We can work toward it. We can hone our skill. We can keep on going, even when we want to give up.
We get disappointed. We deal. We move on.
In the last week or so, three great friends have all gotten something I want very, very much.
The weird thing is that I never thought Why her and not me? this time around. I was simply excited for my friends who'd worked hard, persevered and hit that magical "right time."
Because it's not my "right time" yet. I don't know where on that imaginary time line it is or even if it's really there.
I just know I'm in for the whole trip, and I'm going to enjoy the ride, quit worrying so much about the map or how long it takes to get there.
posted by Linda Winfree at 5:14 PM
4Comments:
Bravo! That is exactly how I feel! Keep putting out the stories, honing my skills and when the right door opens - I'm in!
)))))))))Linda(((((((((( Big squeezies! And thank you. I can't tell you how many times between mid-january and mid-february I said I quit (cuz I lost count).
That's inspiring, Cece, because I think we all have those moments! Kinda cool to hear it happens when you least expect it.
Congrats again!
Thanks Elizabeth and congrats on your RTT win!
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