Charles calls. He tells Wendy that he wants to talk to me… that he has some questions he wants to ask me. Uh-oh! Charles is no joke. He is not prone to take my crap. My vague thoughts and abstract ideas don’t exactly sway him. And, as I expect, after the niceties, the grilling begins.
“What are you doing, Danne? What is your vision for that? Are you passionate and persistent in your purpose? What do you hope to accomplish? What legacy would you like to leave behind?”
I… uh… but… I stumble my way through every question. I don’t have time. I don’t have clarity. I don’t have the resources. I don’t have the credentials.
But with every revealing answer, there’s a more convicting question. “What about this? Have you thought of the implications of that? How does this fit into the picture?
I… uh… but… I’m not prepared. I’m not sure I can. It’s all kind of scary. Well, I’m kind of scared. I don’t want to fail. Now the truth is out. My vulnerability is on the cold stone table. My cowardly sin is confessed. Yet it brings me no release.
“Danne, the first step is always the hardest, so how about we make a deal?” Now, there’s a question I can answer. “If you’re too scared to take that first step, girl, then at least lift your big toe.”
I laugh. I look down at my feet. What a goofy thing to say. I want to reply, but my toe isn’t polished. I want to show evidence to support my argument, I’m not ready. I want to foolishly defend my lack of action. But instead, I write… an unpolished, poorly constructed, pointless blog… but I have written, nonetheless… my toe is off the ground, nonetheless.
Thanks, Charles J