A couple of days ago, Scott (I love the way I’m on a first name basis with him – the guy doesn’t even know my name!) asked us on the postaday2011 board, what advice we would give bloggers who’d fallen off the band wagon.
It was excellent, everybody had something to say, some like – just write, it’s easy, here’s a 10-point plan, others like – whatever dude, just write when you feel like it.
I sent a 10-point plan. It got me thinking, why is it so important to me that I make my posts?
Also, why is it so important for me to encourage others in the challenge to make theirs?
In church today, at communion, I had gotten back to my pew and noticed that the man in front of me had not gone.
He was poorer than me (looked it anyway) and I was suddenely racked by the need to encourage him to go.
The choir was singing and the band, cracking away and still I did not ask.
When it was clear that the pastor was getting ready to move on, I leaned forward and placed my hand gently on his shoulder.
“Go on,” I said gently.
He did not.
Now, this post is supposed to be about the one that got away. I had mine all planned out. It was going to be the tragic tale of the loss of my boyfriend.
Well, we’ve been without electric for eighteen hours and that post is on my laptop.
Still, I have to GET THAT POST IN, doni?
I’m on my phone doing just that. I tried desparetly to reconstruct my sorry tale and nothing worked. I was very discouraged.
Something is still working on me about that experience at church.
You see, he didn’t have to go. There is no rule about taking communion. Maybe he was just there for the music.
The thing is, I felt good about it. How could I have just sat by and not encouraged him, because in MY story, he was a lonely old man who didn’t feel like he deserved God in his life, or was worthy to share communion with all these people in big clothes.
I didn’t want him writing about ‘The One That Got Away.’
Young people in love can be stupid, sorry. I was twenty three and he was eighteen and we were together for five years and I lost him, and ever since, have been trying to find him in every man I meet.
Why haven’t I met anyone at 42? Perhaps I haven’t been looking at the people around me.
So starting tomorrow, I am going to let ‘The One That Got Away,’ get away.
I am going to listen to the stories of the men around me and let their stories be free of ‘The One That Got Away.’
If they will have me, I will tell them my story. I will tell them that I care that everyone get a shot at redemption, that things that got away need not hurt anymore.