Your 30 Minutes on the Wire

I couldn’t watch Nik Wallenda’s Walk last night until I knew he’d made it safely across. I’ve always harbored a secret terror of the falls – ever since I was a kid I’ve imagined myself being magnetically pulled into the powerful flow of water at the top of the falls, if I got too close. Even now, knowing via 40+ years of experience that that won’t happen to me, I still white-knuckle-grip the railings whenever I decide to venture close enough to witness that raw force of nature.

So Wallenda’s stunt was way too stressful for me to watch live. (I can’t imagine how his family felt!) But as soon as I heard someone (can’t remember if it was my husband or daughter) declare: He’s not dead! I sat in front of the t.v. to watch the interviews and highlights. Besides the glow of his triumphant face, this is what caught my attention the most, even above the sweaty-palm, heart-racing clips:

One interviewer said something along the lines of: So, you say you pray a lot, before and after you walk. How can you even do that knowing you’re purposefully putting your life in danger?

And Wallenda responded with something along of the lines of: Yes, I do pray. A lot. And that’s because God has given me this ability and also the desire to follow my dream of fulfilling it. So, Claudia Osmond from Toronto Ontario Canada, do not give up on your dream, no matter how much it terrifies you at times, no matter how many times you hear – or feel – it’s impossible, no matter how long it takes you. Recognize the source of your ability and do it! I just did!

It was amazing to me how my family totally missed the last part of what he said, but I heard it loud and clear.

One of these days I might share the deeply personal story of how I came to finish my first book and actually submit it for publication. Publication was not on my mind when I started writing it. At. All. But that story is for another time.

Last night, Nik Wallenda’s words of faith, trust, confidence, and passion were so alive to me. Yes! I thought. That’s right! You did it! Your whole life has been preparation for this moment in the mist: A lifetime of hard work, focus, prayer, vision. A lifetime of dedication that was deeply personal and unseen by the rest of the world. Until it was manifested within the span of 30 minutes.

A lifetime of work boiled down to 30 minutes.

And even in the very act of achieving the dream he’d spent so long preparing for – that 30 minutes on the wire – Wallenda faced thick mist, 14 mph gusts, slick wire, raging water below and beside him. And the reality that no one else in history had accomplished this feat in 116 years.

And still he did it.

Don’t just follow; catch up to your dream. Never stop working. Never give up focus. Face your fears with white-knuckle determination. Walk steadily through your obstacles. Pray, meditate, renew your vision. Recognize the birthplace of your ability. And exert whatever effort it takes to achieve your 30 minutes on the wire.

Wall or Canvas?

I hate staring at walls. Do you know what I mean? Those walls that seem to pop up and plunk themselves right in front of you, implying there’s no chance of you ever walking around, climbing over, or digging under them. Those walls that have no footholds, cracks, or loose bricks in them; not allowing you the slightest peek or even hint of what lies on the other side. You know those walls? Has one ever plunked its heavy, imposing, perfectly opaque bulk in front of you?

There’s been one in front of me for quite some time. And I’m tired of staring at its soul-sucking nothingness.

Time to get the paints out and make it a canvas.

Dreams

Today’s post isn’t about reading. It isn’t about writing. It’s about ruminating. Ruminating over the past 18 years.

My oldest son is now officially an adult. He turned 18 yesterday. I can’t believe it. I still remember lying in the hospital bed when my dad came into the room carrying a tiny pair of blue rubber boots and a mini fishing rod. “We’re going to be fishing buddies,” he said.

Well, they were fishing buddies at least for a few years, until Matthew became a vegetarian ’cause he loves animals too much to eat them. (That’s what he told me when he was 12, when he decided to become a herbivore)

And now my animal-loving, non-fishing, plant-eating, 18-year-old adult son is old enough to sign himself out of school whenever he wants to. (That’s what he told me last night, when the realization struck him. My 13-year-old daughter piped up then and said, “Yeah, and you can discipline yourself, too, for missing all those classes.”)

So today is my day for ruminating. My first child has hit a major milestone in his life. The last 18 years have been packed full of SO much it’s worth it to reflect on all of it. But what’s more important to me is to dream about the future: Just like I did when my now-semi-bearded son was born. But to be honest, not a whole lot of what I’d dreamed about back then has actually come true. 

But that’s the beauty of life, if we can learn to appreciate it: Not all our dreams come true. Not everything is in our control. And sometimes that’s a good thing. I didn’t say it’s an easy thing. I mean, I’m just like the next person; if I believe in something I’ll work my can off to see it happen and I’ll be devasted if it doesn’t. But, for example, if my dreams for Matthew, 18 years ago, all came true, I wouldn’t have the exact son I have today. And I’d be missing out big time. Sure there are things I still wish he’d do, or become, but there is so much I love about that kid that I could never have dreamed up myself. Because even though dreams are amazing things, they are incomplete because they are limited to our own understanding. And anyone who is aware knows there is so much that lies outside of our own understanding.

But I keep on dreaming, even though my dreams may be limited. Even though my dreams may not come true exactly like I want them to. Even though my dreams may not come true AT ALL. I keep on dreaming. Why? Because even the most limited and incomplete dreams have hope for the future.