Friday, February 20, 2009

A Waiting Time

For 7 days, I worked nearly non-stop—more than 20 hours most days. By turns, I was excited, frustrated, disappointed, exhilarated, exhausted and energized. It was intense: the work, my feelings, the impending deadline.

I delivered the finished proposal to The Man on Tuesday afternoon as though crossing the finish line of a marathon. I wanted a shiny space blanket and a cup of yogurt, you know?

What I got was such flat acceptance it broke my heart. "That's nice. Thanks." And a promise to look at it next week.

This is business and I understand The Man has no idea what it took (and how many people helped me) to complete that proposal. Honestly, I wouldn't want him to know. Even so, "That's nice. Thanks." broke my heart.

I drove home to Kansas City on Wednesday. On the way, I thought of one more thing I could send The Man and got to work almost the moment I walked in the door. Put in about 26 hours between 5:00pm Wednesday and half an hour ago, when I sent off this new project.

As of this moment, I cannot think of anything else to do. Not a thing. Now it's time to rest. Time to wait. Someone noteworthy, I can't remember who right now, suggests that when you've done everything possible, you stand.

I've done everything possible. It's time to stand. I feel you all standing with me, and I'm profoundly grateful.


Carrie Wilson Link said...

I've got to ponder that "time to stand" idea. Feels like it's time to get horizontal!

Go Mama said...

You can lie down now. You've earned it.

Remember, sometimes the pause is just a pause. It isn't time yet. Things take time to align and materialize. Use the pause to rest and rejuvenate.

-from one of the ones proudly standing next to you cheering you on...

luckyzmom said...

Job well done. Everything is working out for your highest good. I'm so proud of you.

mamatulip said...

Standing here with you.

Amber said...

You can sit. We will take turns holding your place.


kario said...

I have this image of you standing in the middle of a gorgeous brook, tall rubber boots on to protect your ankles from the cold, the wind lifting pieces of your hair from time to time. You are still as the water eddies around you, tickling the edges of your boots like a playful puppy, just giving you acceptance and acknowledgement that your presence there in the water is welcome and gentle.

Time to stand and give yourself credit for the work you've done. Time to know that what you have done is extraordinary and stands for itself.


Deb Shucka said...

Standing with you, holding you and celebrating with you as you rest and recharge and get ready for what comes next. Take care of yourself.

Michelle O'Neil said...

Or maybe sit. Or maybe lie down. And breathe.