I have a wonderful group of girlfriends whom I met while living in Atlanta a few years ago. We were all taking a series of personal development classes and came together to form an unlikely union. We’re very different from each other but our friendship just works.We’ve been through a lot together – career changes, moves, marriages, babies, broken hearts – a lot of joy and happiness and tears. I talk to some of them more often than others, but when we’re back together it’s as if we we’ve never been apart. Periodically we send each other e-mailed updates on our lives so that even if we’re not in constant communication, each one knows where the others are and how they are doing.
I received such an e-mail yesterday. One of my girlfriends wanted to let us all know that she was just laid off from her job in New Orleans and wanted to find something and return to the Atlanta area. News like this invariably starts a flurry of e-mails. We’ll all reach out with words of support and then touch base with the news in our own lives. I’m great with the support but when it comes to explaining how I’m currently feeling about where we are (or more specifically, where we aren’t) in this baby-making process, all I come up with is a flashing cursor.
So I’ve tried to put it into words. As strange as the following analogy may be, it sums it up pretty well.
It’s as if I was going along merrily living my life, my dreams just within my grasp when someone came up, tapped me on the shoulder, and told me that to have those dreams become a reality I would have to join a football team; a team that one that no one wants to be a member of.
I was sure there must be some mistake. Me? No, I’m not a football player. Sure, I know a little bit about football, but my dreams – they’re right there. I’m this close! I don’t have time for this football nonsense.
But it soon became apparent that there was no other way, so I threw myself into it.
I researched the sport. I met the coach and went over a game plan. I endlessly studied my playbook and gathered all of the expensive equipment I’d need.
I met the other players, most of them equally shocked to have been plucked from their own lives and placed on this team. Those who had played the game before generously shared their knowledge with the rest of us. We practiced together, went through drills, and learned from each other. We dusted each other off when we got knocked down. We formed bonds and became teammates.
Finally - FINALLY it was game day. I was scared to death and a little bit excited as I suited up and made my way to the stadium. But just as it was time to put on my helmet and burst onto the field with my team my coach yelled, “Hey you – on the bench!”
I couldn’t believe it. I’d done everything that was asked of me. I’d worked so hard yet there I was, left to find my way to the sidelines to join a few others seated there.
The game got underway. I busied myself keeping an eye on the action while waiting for any sign from the coach that it was my turn. My teammates dug in and played their hearts out. They hit and were hit. Some were knocked down and carried off the field, making me glad for a moment that I wasn’t out there. Others got their hands on the ball for a moment only to have it stolen away. Still others grabbed the ball and sprinted for the end zone to score a touchdown. I cheered for them – for my teammates - but couldn’t help feeling scared as I watched the time on the game clock ticking down second by second.
I tried to find things to distract myself from all the action on the field. I wandered down to the concession stand for a snack (okay, several snacks), I sat up in the stands and people-watched, I even went and helped the grounds crew for a while. Through it all I was acutely aware of the action on the field and of the fact that I was not a part of it.
The coach approached me a couple of times, gave me some new plays to memorize, but when the time came she always walked on past me to call someone else's number.
So here I still sit, benched.
As my 39th birthday approaches, I feel as if this game is now entering the fourth quarter and I just wonder if I’ll ever get a chance – just a CHANCE to strap on my helmet and get in the game.
Put me in, coach. At this point all I want is a chance.
