Postcard from the Moon

My daughter says she wants to be an astronaut when she grows up.

I used to say that, too. I always wanted to go to the moon. But you know… things change. You get old. At least, I did.

But in her case, she may just grow up to be an astronaut.

We went to a new park the other day. One with a climbing wall.

She ran from slide to slide, climbing stairs to ride the slide down, all the while raving about the climbing wall.

 “This park has a rock wall!”

 “I want to climb the rocks!”

 “I never did go up one of those before!”

 “That sure seems like fun!”

 “I think that’s for me, Momma!”

But each time we approached the short wall to climb up to the slide, she backed away and said, “I’ll go the other way this time.”

I didn’t push. She was unsure, I told myself and my husband. That’s all. She’s just mustering her courage to do the new thing. She’ll get there. Be patient, Sar.

And anyway, she was having a blast with the slides. She loves slides.

But after an hour of running and stair-stepping and hair-raising slide friction, Little Lady led CW and me back to the rock wall and said, “I want to climb it!”

“Great! Are you ready?”

“Yes, Momma! I’m ready!”

“Go ahead! You’ve got this! Daddy and I are right here if you need help, okay?”

She reached for two of the holds, then looked down at her feet. She hesitated, let go, and looked at me with pleading eyes. She didn’t know how.

“You’ve got this,” I said again. “It doesn’t matter which ones you use – just put your foot onto one of the rocks and step up with your other. It’s just like climbing a ladder.” Of course, it’s not at all like climbing a ladder, but she needed something she had already conquered to which she could liken this new experience. Something to reassure her and remind her – she has done new, hard things before, and she has succeeded.

Little Lady faced the wall again. Reaching confidently for two holds, she stepped up first with her right foot, then with her left. She reached. She hoisted. She giggled. She stretched. She reached. She hoisted. She giggled. She stretched. She reached. She hoisted. She…  paused.

“My foot doesn’t reach!” Her left foot wiggled in the air, not quite able to reach the rock it aimed for.

“Is there another one it will reach?” CW asked.

“I think so!” She exclaimed. “Let me just…”

Her words faded, and she launched.

My Little Lady, fearful but knowing what she wanted, climbed to the very top, then crawled onto the platform and threw her hands over her head as she screamed in delight.

She was in orbit. CW and I cheered her from the earth below. We’ve had plenty of proud parent moments, but this one was special. This one marked a moment in my heart when Little Lady grew from Dreamer to Doer. It culminated in a victory won, not without any setbacks or fears, but by the courage to keep trying until she figured it out. It resonated in my heart, “Momma! I’m ready!”

Writing is like rock wall climbing:

It is both thrilling and terrifying.

It can leave you dangling without a foothold or propel you onto a platform in triumph.

It entices. It intimidates. And it stretches you.

For the past year and a half, I’ve had the pleasure of working with a writing coach, Andy Rogers, who believed I could make it to the top of that rock climbing wall. He has challenged me. He has encouraged me. He has been patient with me. He has assisted me. He has offered me insightful and creative feedback on my writing. When I found myself hesitant, he gave me room to delay while still urging me back to the rock wall. When I couldn’t reach my next step, he challenged me to think outside my plan – maybe there was another step I could reach. When I questioned whether I should even be writing, he repeated what he’s been saying from the start, “You’re doing the work of a writer.” He has not only celebrated the victories with me, but he has also encouraged me to show grace toward myself in my setbacks.

As people, we need that kind of investment. It’s not just our children, attempting a new thing at the playground. And it’s not just writers, looking for the guidance and reassurance of a coach. We need to be surrounded by folks who are committed to helping us be and do and bring about the best we can in this life.

And Lord Almighty, we need to be the folks who are committed to helping those around us be and do and bring about the best they can in this life.

Coach, it has truly been an honor to learn and grow under your creativity, your wisdom, and your encouragement. Thank you for seeing me to the top of my first rock wall. I’ll send you a postcard from the moon.

To learn more about Andy Rogers, visit his website at Andy Rogers Books dot com.

From my heart to yours,