Girlfriends and Gatherings

Quote of the day: "At the end of your life, you will never regret not having passed one more test, not winning one more verdict, or not closing one more deal. You will regret time not spent with a husband, a friend, a child, or a parent.” —Barbara Bush; Wife Of The 41st President Of The United States


It’s basically a waiting game right now. There is an unknown variable floating around the decision pool and until I have confirmation, I am patiently treading water. Although, my arms will become quite tired if I wait too long.

I had the job interview I mentioned a few postings ago. It’s a very flexible part-time job, work from home, with benefits AND I’d be making only slightly less money than I am now working half the amount of time, without being tied to an office. It’s a communications position for a company I really, really love and support. This all kind of sounds too good to be true, right? How could I even question such an opportunity?

I am … Well, in truth, they haven’t offered it to me, so I don’t see any point in contemplating the position. If they offer it to me, well, then I’ll get focused. This is the variable I am speaking of.

My spirit feels a little absent these days. I’ve been giving more energy to the practical applications in life that I’ve been slightly disconnected from my source. This is never a “good” thing. I say this not in judgment, but in honest acknowledgment of my awareness. Any time I coast along, falling astray from my center, I always seem to end up in a puddle somewhere, usually made up of my own tears.

To step back from the madness of this week, over the weekend I enjoyed another Columbia Girls retreat. There were seven of us in attendance. As usual, we indulged ourselves in much-needed girl time. The wine doesn’t pour in quantities it once did not so long ago, which can be attributed to the many new additions of little fingers and toes into our circle. Whether one’s breast feeding or simply needing to remain somewhat astute in case a situation arises that requires parental alertness, the wine intake has reduced itself to modest quantities. However, those of us who remain kid-less tend to err on the side of larger quantities, and we carry no shame in doing so.

The content of our conversations are also changing. I believe we tallied close to 15 or so moments when we were discussing poop … children’s poop. This is definitely something we never used to talk about, but is obviously a testament to the direction many of our lives have taken.

We still gab about the good ‘ole days, reflecting on the all-time classic stories from the past. But what interested me most this past weekend was our conversations about our own personal “issue.” It all started with my friend Joy …

Dearest Joy has two beautiful, healthy young children. She is not only one of the most “mothering” out of all of us, she is also one of the most book-smart. Joy is a physical therapist by trade and graduated with honors. We have always been impressed by her smarts.

She was driving her car with Noelle, me and her baby Sam in tow. After an hour or so into the road trip, Joy bursts out into a monologue about her “issue.”

NOTE: We kept the issue talk singular for the weekend, so we didn’t become too overwhelmed with our imperfections.

Anyways, she proceeded to tell us how she has an inability to finish things, or give it her all, and reach her full potential in anything that she does. She broke this issue down into small tasks, such as unpacking. Joy never completely finishes unpacking. Or, leaving a dribble of juice left in the carton. She just doesn’t finish it. Then, she discussed how this issue affects her in larger aspects, such as in college. Joy put in enough effort to achieve good grades by society’s standards, but she didn’t give it her all.

All this insight made clear to her that her pattern of not finishing things or giving them her all protects her from failing because she can always say, “Well, I didn’t really give it my best.”

Noelle and I (and Sam who was sleeping in her car seat) were caught a bit off guard with her self-analysis, but were happy to engage. Later, when we were all together in Wendi’s house, we recapped our road trip and circled back to Joy’s disclosure. It didn’t take long for all us to begin discussing our “issue.” In fact, we helped to diagnose each other’s.

Whether we’re discussing children’s poop, old drunken stories, or our issues in life, we are destined to have fun, laugh and be joyful. After gathering like this, post-college, for 11 years now, we’ve become accustomed to the “high” of the weekend and the “low” of the going home and getting back into the swing of things. Yet, it is always, I mean always, an adjustment when Monday morning arrives and the girls are gone.

It is as if our web, our safety net, has been taken away from us once again, and we must once again re-enter the world on our own.