“Where were you when the world stopped turning, on that September day.” Alan Jackson.
I remember when I was a little girl and my dad was a single dad we would drive and listen to Alan Jackson. My dad said, “you know, Amber, listen to this whole CD and you’ll love country.” He was right. To this day, I love country music. There is something about sharing the most painful part of your life with others that makes that genre of music so real.
Now that I sit here and reflect, maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to share my life with you… Even the most painful parts. A few weeks ago I was at my breaking point. I literally felt like I was at the bottom of a ton of bricks. Thankfully, time makes you move forward even if you don’t feel ready.
This week I’ve been approached by well-respected leaders in my organization that have given me amazing confidence and reassurance that I’m an integral part of our business. I’ve received my letter from the editor! I also have been complimented as an amazing teacher.
All these “things” -we’ll call them- don’t pay the bills nor do they change my temporarily negative checking account. They provide hope to a girl who used to sit in her daddy’s truck and listen to rich people sing about their despair.
Hope. Just like the hope on 9/11 that this country would come together for the betterment of people. Not Caucasians, Mexican Americans, Black Americans, African Americans, Italian Americans, Asian Americans, Pacific Islanders, gay/straight/Trans/bi, and /or anything in-between …. Just purely the hope that we can create the worth of people. HUMANS. People who deserve a voice and respect. People who on 9/11 would give anything to be with their loved one. Don’t forget.
This sweet button is growing daily. Changing. Repeating. Smiling. Our lives will never be the same and why would we want them to be?
All I can say is I’m thankful for this week. It’s been amazing. It’s been uplifting. It will take me into my next not-so-great week and prepare me for the good/bad or anything in between.
A wise English teacher once taught me: “you can’t appreciate the sweet if you don’t know the taste of sour.”