Wednesday, March 25, 2015

The Journey

Yesterday morning I woke up in Vegas.

I rolled out of my couch bed and headed into the kitchen where I helped myself to some coffee. As I took my first sips of caffeine, I noticed a postcard clipped to the side of the refrigerator. "Your Story Matters," the 4 x 6 card insisted. I was somewhat surprised to see this particular postcard amidst the other memorabilia displayed on my friend's refrigerator. I wasn't the one who had sent it to her, but I knew of its origin, and have the exact same card sitting on the base of the ledge of my mirror back in Michigan.

The postcards were distributed at the #Storyline conference I attended in Chicago this past October. We were encouraged to fill them out and send them to a few of our friends to encourage them in their life journey. Confession: I never got around to filling my cards out...

But over a Vegas dinner date? meeting with a successful business man the night prior, I was reminded, my story - my written words - matter. This man who had read my book posed the question, "How many people need to hear your story?" Then preceded to answer his own question. "Countless," he insisted.

He believes that countless people need to hear my story and to read the book I've written. Although this man isn't romantically interested in me, for whatever reason, this man is interested in seeing me succeed as a writer and speaker. He believes I have a knack for writing, and he isn't just saying that to be nice, or to flatter me for ulterior reasons. Already he has offered me invaluable "pro bono" consulting, and even agreed to meet with another man on my behalf to help me along in my journey.
Yesterday I drove east on the 70 though Nevada, Arizona, Utah, before crossing over into Colorado.
With my health being off the drive kicked my butt, but thankfully I didn't feel the impact of the drive until this morning. (That's the part of #CFS that's called post-exertional malaise, which is why I can often do an activity and feel fine in the moment, and don't feel shotty until afterwards. And sometimes, I don't feel shotty at all, which makes everything I do a gamble.) Today I woke up to a migraine and the words, "Huh, I've never seen snow on a surfboard before."
Thankfully, I'm staying put for a few days, to recuperate from the first half my journey and to celebrate my birthday with the friend who taught me how to surf 13 years ago.

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