i’m not who I was

Every time I see you I love you. I want to grow up to be like you. To have purpose and children and a family. And to connect to people the way you do. And to make people feel special the way you do. Sometimes I hate the things you say – just like my mother. I hate when you tell me what to do cuz  I know I need to do it but haven’t. I hate when you give me responsibility cuz I don’t want it but I know I need it. But I hate when I do things that don’t please you. And I hate to look back at my day and think that if I was half as dedicated as you I could have done twice as much. It makes me feel ashamed to tell you because I know I have no excuse. I love spending time with you. “We are making memories,” you said. And I feel that some day when I am old I will remember those times and I will not be able to make a distinction between Lois Murray and Laurie Shumate because you have both been so much to me.

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And to think that God sent me an angel as I cried on the side of the road in my blue minivan with a flat tire in my prom dress with no makeup on my face because what I had planned to happen didn’t. But You still held my hand so that the situation was a positive one. To think that I am that special that You would allow me that situation. And as I was dancing the night away at my senior prom You already had in mind plans for me. Great plans of which I still do not comprehend. And to think that the girl sitting next to me as I applied my makeup in the car on the way to dinner would be the girl through which You revealed to me the true spirit of recruiting, the true definition of Mary Kay. And to think that that girl would then be sitting in my room sharing her dreams with me – and that it is because of You – You have given me the opportunity to make those dreams come true. Lord, it is a hard job. And can I see beyond the $50 bonuses and free jewelry and prizes to the hearts and souls that I will touch – to the dreams and goals and visions and lives that I have the opportunity to CHANGE, to bring into BEING, to NURTURE. God I cannot do it on my own.  I did not get here on my own and I cannot go through it on my own. This is an opportunity you have blessed me with – and each face cleaned, each interview and sharing appointment I hold brings me closer to impacting that one person. That I have been for Laurie and that Chelsey has been for me. Despite the mountains I face, I keep running at your pace. What could be waiting at that 10^th skin care class that I might never get to if I do not push myself. Who could be that 10^th interview if I don’t plan it out and track it. Who might miss your blessing if I tell myself I don’t have time to make my customers feel special. Lord, give me the strength and determination to meet my goals, to bless your people. AMEN

“Tonight is the night,” God said. “I’m gonna take you there. Don’t be scared. I’m right here. Ready?” And without waiting for an answer: “We can go anywhere. Anywhere you dream. But first it is your chance: Take my hand - Come with me.”

And then it’s like I’ve waited my whole life for this one night - the night before my new life is given the jump start. What I am I doing here? I really don’t know. But God does. It’s funny how even when I decied not to work God is still working for me. He won’t let me give up. And, Lord, I will not either.

“Okay. I’m driving,” He says to me. “You can take the front seat. Just trust me. I am about to do something brand new. It’s bursting out. Don’t you see it?”

And I look out the window into the old vast desert of my furture and there, right in the middle of it all, is a new clear blue stream gleaming with hope and life lived abundantly.

He has made a way and I have taken it.

Everyone is polite. And I don’t know how to respond when they begin to have fun clapping, banging tables, and lauging. I’m trying to act old but I feel so out of place with lawyers, and chief policemen, and school principles. At the table to my left sits a Mary Kay director who drives a pink Cadillac. She’s wearing a brigh samon-colored shirt adorned with a Mary Kay pin twice the size of mine — rhinestone-rimmed and everything.

I feel so small. What do my past accomplishments mean now? Secretary of the art club, all-A student, FBLA 1st place winner. What do any of these have to do with real life? It is all put into perspective.

And I begin at the bottom again.

While I input phone numbers in the computer for my dad I listen to a CD about the Mary Kay “Perfect Opportunity.”  “Is there any reason why we couldn’t get you started today? You’ll never know unless you try!” the last woman on the CD remarks.  The CD ends and the next song in my playlist begins.
“Lets take a drive tonight. Lets chase dreams, alright. Lets get away from here. Lets forget all your fears,” I hear through my headphones, still inputting phone numbers. As I type in the phone number of Bonnet Irrigation Wholesale Sprinkler Supply, my brain connects the words I am hearing and the words I am typing to a mental picture: an image of my dad walking into that wholesale store, brick building by the railroad tracks, for the first time.  At that moment I realize that everything everyone has accomplished before me — from my dad and his business to Martin Luther King and the civil rights movement — has not happened because someone else did it for them. No. They reached their goals because they took a chance, walked in, and made the decision to just go and do it themselves.
They forgot all their fears.

Fifteen days ago I forgot all my fears. I faced my unclear future with a determined stare. I stood up from my table at the June Mary Kay Breakfast of Champions, and ran to the front of the room. I turned around to look at all the Mary Kay consultants and directors in front of me. I saw them smiling there in their purple jackets, and red jackets, and white shirts, and black shirts, and my future -suddenly became a little clearer as I signed my name on the dotted line to become one of “them,” to become a Mary Kay Independent Beauty Consultant.
Four days later I looked Dr. Hansen in the eyes and beamed from ear to ear as I shook his hand, my diploma in the other, then walked down that wooden ramp as a new graduate.

In those moments I had captured the feeling that I could accomplish anything. And now as multi-task on the second longest day of 2008, I have once again captured that feeling — not in any new beginning — but simply in a song and a memory.

I feel ready now.

Ready to begin the new life ahead of me.

To chase dreams, to get away, to forget all my fears,
to live outloud for everyone to hear.