In the Moments Before the Big Break

There’s this letter I need to write…

This call I need to make…

This song I need to sing…

This story I need to finish…

This love I need to grab…

This kid I need to groom…

This group I need to rally…

This house I need to clean…

This laundry I need to do…

…and I have no idea where to begin. I’m on the brink of whatever’s coming next. I see it, smell it, feel it wherever I go. However, it creates a fear of movement. I’m afraid I’m going to ruin the opportunity before I even get the offer. I want to stand completely still and wait. Of course, I can’t do that.

We have to wait for the big breaks. We have to have patience (though in all honesty, this is a virtue that is beginning to wear thin for me). But what do we do in the meantime? Do we sit and watch life pass us by, while everyone else lives and loves and enjoys another day in this beautiful world? Or do we get busy making sure that we’re living, singing, writing, loving and preparing for that open door?

Without a record label, there is still a song to sing. Without a publishing contract, there are still stories to be told. Without a film crew, there are still movies to be made. We have to live the art, be the art, and pray through our art in the moments leading up to the big breaks.

If you’re like me, you have a sigh sitting somewhere between your shoulders and your gut that is begging for release. One call, email, text message — one good offer so you can let it out. You want to let those tears that are locked in the joy reserve flow. Your mind has already choreographed your praise dance. You’re just waiting.

In the minutes before I gave birth to my son, the pain was palpable, but the pressure to release my child loomed to the point of being overwhelming. In those moments when it was no longer an option for me to just breathe, when my Lamaze teachings were crushed like the ice chips between my teeth, when my parents and my son’s father begged me to get the damn epidural, and when the doctor told them that we were past that stage, that my path was my choice and I had to accept all that came with it, I made the decision to push. The nurse said I needed to go to the delivery room. The doctor said I wasn’t fully dilated. And I told them to tell that to God because no matter where I was or if I was physically ready, this kid was coming and he was coming soon. And while they talked amongst themselves, I began to push and, twenty minutes later, my kid came out wailing.

Dues have been paid. I know it. We’re in the final moments of the waiting game, and on the cusp of something new, beautiful and exciting. The pressure is high. Perhaps, like me, there are people around you telling you the proper procedure and begging you to go another way. But you have already made your choice. You cannot back out now. Your time is coming, and it’s coming soon. Let them talk amongst themselves. It is time to push.

Do whatever it is that you do with wild abandon. Push it to its limits. Defy your physical limitations. Fight like hell to meet your opportunity.

I can’t wait to sigh. I can’t wait to cry. I can’t wait to dance. I can’t wait to say it was ALL worth it.

Sweetie Pies are talking!

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