Our amazing friend and incredible writer, Courtney Walsh, is oh-so-generously sharing her “Someone Threw Me A Rope” story with the Brave Girls Club today…this is such a timely reminder for each of us…why do we all have such a hard time grabbing that ROPE!!! You’ll see what I mean….

 

It was the week my debut novel, A Sweethaven Summer, was set to be released. I should have been ecstatic. I should’ve been floating through the sky, clinging to a brightly colored bouquet of balloons… this tremendous dream had just come true…

But a funny thing happened on the way to the party store…we discovered the book was out of stock…everywhere. It’s something of a thrill to know that your book has sold out, but what about all my neatly laid plans? The reviews that were scheduled? The giveaways? Would I be able to put those on the shelf for a week and regroup?
It threw me, I’m not going to lie…because I’m a planner. That’s what I do. I plan.

The stress of that was compounded by all kinds of other little things…the launch party I had no outfit for…the assignments I’d yet to start…the deadline that loomed right alongside that other deadline…the realization that we’d been paying car insurance in two different states…suddenly, it all became too much.

I sat on my bed the night before the launch that would never be, crying because the stress had gotten too great. How did I push past it when it seemed like everything was going wrong?

I wanted to be one of those people to just bask in this…to enjoy the joy…to feel elated that after two years of working on it, I finally held my book in my hands. It got to the point where I was almost beating myself up that I wasn’t properly enjoying the experience…as if there are rules in the way you celebrate.

See, the truth was, behind the scenes, I was like a duck, my feet frantically paddling under the water, trying to stay afloat, trying to appear on the surface like I was gliding. But between my regular household duties (which were suffering), my day job and the added pressure to market my debut novel, I felt more like a duck with a brick on its back. I simply couldn’t do it all.

To make matters worse, my husband slipped a disc shoveling snow, and suddenly I was not only a single parent…I was a nursemaid. And let me tell you, I am not a sympathetic nursemaid.

I floundered. In less than a week, we were heading out on a plane (my entire family, including my husband and three kids) from Illinois to Colorado, to attend a book launch party and my very first book signing. To say I was nervous would be the understatement of the century…and unfortunately, when I get nervous, I get cranky.

During that time, I discovered something about myself. Something kind of humbling…

I have Wonder Woman Syndrome.

While I talk and write about how “we simply can’t do it all…” there I was, trying to do it all. Trying to wear every hat at the same time…and I was failing. Miserably. And, as a result, it made everyone else miserable.

Why is it so hard to admit that we really do need the help of others? Isn’t that why God sent us friends and family? So we wouldn’t have to go on this journey alone? They’re sitting there like a nicely wrapped gift…and I practically flung them back in God’s face. “No thanks, God. I can do this myself.”

I refuse to ask for an extension on a deadline. I refuse to let my friends take the kids for a couple of hours. Me, in all my Wonder Woman Glory, has the hardest time admitting that I can’t do it all…

After a good three hours in Urgent Care only days before we were going to be flying across the country for one of the biggest events of my life…I simply couldn’t do it anymore.

I texted a friend “Sat in Urgent Care for three hours because Adam’s back is completely out. Guess we’ve got different definitions of the word ‘urgent.’”

She texted me right back…

“I’m bringing you dinner.”

For literally ten minutes I tried to talk her out of bringing my family the spaghetti and meatballs she’d been making for HER family. Ten minutes…but I failed. I failed because she insisted on helping me, even when I refused.

In the midst of this texting, my sister called and I had a little breakdown. (Funny how that happens when you talk to someone you love…) I told her about my week and in the midst of my tantrum, I said, “I can’t even find black heels for my launch party!” It was as if my life depended on the perfect pair of heels. “And forget about the jewelry. I have nothing.”

“I have shoes you can wear. I just bought them. And I’ve got jewelry too. I’ll text you a picture.”

Nobody gave me their kidney or saved my life…but these small gestures, dinner on a night when my family would’ve had bologna sandwiches…shoes and jewelry that saved me so many trips to stores with three kids in tow…they were my “rope…” my “lifeline…”

That night, over a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, I realized that sometimes I can’t do it alone. I finally admitted to myself that I’m not Wonder Woman. I’m not even SuperGirl. I’m just a girl who wrote a book who almost let the petty little circumstances around her steal her joy.

It’s okay to catch the rope someone is trying to toss your way… it’s brave even, to say “I could not have done this without you.”

Humility is brave.  Accepting help is brave.

And perhaps I’ve had to learn this lesson the hard way…but I’m so much better for it.

The people around you want to help now and then. They want to be a part of your life and maybe even be your rope…

It’s okay…Be Brave. Let them.

love,

Courtney

 

Courtney Walsh is the author of A Sweethaven Summer, available in books stores everywhere or at Amazon.com.

Visit her blog to read her latest post and see how YOU CAN WIN a copy today!

 

Jennifer, who tells her ‘Someone Threw Me a Rope’ story today is Kathy and Melody’s youngest sister.  Jennifer is amazing and one of the most tender-hearted women you’ll ever meet.  She tells a good story, too…hope you enjoy.  xoxo

Someone Threw Me a Rope {Part 2}

When I was young, I admired clever people.
Now that I am old, I admire kind people.
-Abraham Joshua Heschel

These sweet little treasures are our “just one more”.

Oh, how we love them. They have been such a fun and blessed addition to our not-so-little-anymore family.

Like so many of life’s most beautiful gifts, getting them here wasn’t easy. Before I was halfway through the pregnancy, before I even felt the babies move, I started having contractions. At first it was just when I did too much, and then it began to be all the time. This was my fourth pregnancy and I knew it wasn’t just those “practice” contractions. I knew something was wrong. My doctor would tell me to sit down when it started happening, but it was happening all the time, even when I was sitting. Around the 20-week mark, tests started showing that I was indeed in pre-term labor and I was put on strict bed rest.

I have 3 other little girls. I have a husband who counts on me as much as I count on him. I had dishes and laundry to do, and meals to plan and prepare, and my job leading children’s’ music at church, and and and and. . .  how on earth could I stay in bed for days, let alone weeks or months? Oh, I was angry. I fought and I cried and I resolved that I would do it all, somehow, without inconveniencing anyone else. That’s what women do, right? Do everything that needs done and look good doing it. I would stay in bed, keeping my babes safe and snug while I tended to my children and home.

Except that I couldn’t.

Enter a beautiful brigade of women. My incredible mother led the charge. She and my wonderful sisters and nieces coordinated times to come help with the dishes and laundry and food and driving me to the doctor or hospital and most importantly, see to the needs of my little girls. When I was put in the hospital for awhile, I knew my daughters were in my sister Lynda’s loving, capable hands and I didn’t have to worry about them. Neighbors, friends, and women from church jumped in, too- with casseroles and cookies, books and DVD’s, phone calls and visits and cards in the mail, and countless prayers. My next-door neighbor and her gloriously green thumb came to take care of my yard without asking.

If you want others to be happy, practice compassion.
If you want to be happy, practice compassion.
-Dalai Lama

I ended up being in bed for about 4 months. My babies made it to a miraculous 38 weeks and were born healthy and robust.

I could write pages and pages of all of the names of women who rushed to our aid, some who I didn’t even know, and all of the things that were done for us. Even now, as I’m in the trenches with two infants (which is way more fun, but an overwhelming amount of work), I get a lot of help. My twin mom friends are always ready and anxious to share their hard-learned tips with me. My sisters, nieces, cousins, and friends often express that they’re only a phone call away, and I know they mean it. One day, my friend Adele showed up with a pot of soup and an hour to kill, and cleaned my kitchen.  Charmaine comes with her daughter to hold and love on the babies so I can get something done. Her daughter Savannah will even come during the day to help with the babies or do a little cleaning for me, just because. What a testament to how our daughters watch us and emulate the things we do. At 11, Savannah already knows the joy of serving someone else.  I don’t know how I would or could do it on my own.

Life is mostly froth and bubble,
Two things stand like stone,
Kindness in another’s trouble,
Courage in your own.
-Adam Lindsay Gordon

This whole experience has been full of so much learning and so much healing. One of the my favorite lessons is this one, that I will never, ever forget: women are awesome. I believe it is in our wiring to circle the wagons and care for each other when the need arises. Even on my hardest days, I know that there are so many of my sisters out there that have my back, and I hope they know that I will always have theirs, too; and how blessed I feel that my daughters have been witness to the good that women can do!

There is in every true woman’s heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity. -Washington Irving

If you read my personal blog, then you know a little bit about my sweet friend, Margie.

I could spend hours and hours and pages and pages telling you about Margie and the incredible things I’ve seen come out of her life and out of her heart.  She is an incredible person and an incredible friend.  But what I want to tell you today is just ONE thing.

Margie came to our second ever Brave Girl Camp and during one of our conversations she said something that’s been in my heart ever since.  See Margie has seen it all…she’s seen the best that women have to offer each other and unfortunately she’s also seen the worst.  What she said that has stayed with me was:

“THIS is how women should treat each other.
When we see someone who’s in a hole
instead of pushing her down or letting her struggle alone,
we should throw her a rope,
pull her out
and put our arms around her…”

Isn’t that one of the most beautiful things you’ve ever heard?!  How true…how loving….and how full of goodness…it feels right, don’t you think?

What Margie said is at the very core of what we believe at Brave Girls Club….it’s probably something you believe, too.  BUT we don’t hear the stories enough…they’re not told enough.

So we’ve asked some of our closest family and friends to share their stories about a time in their lives when someone threw them a rope, and we’re going to share them with you in a series called (you guessed it) “Someone Threw Me a Rope”….Hope you enjoy reading these stories as much as we have.

This first story is told by Kathy:

Maybe you can relate to the desperate situation I found myself in several years ago…I was totally at the end of my rope, hanging on by just a few little threads that were frayed and untwisting and threatening to break.

My little family was in the middle of what might be called an economic downturn…can anyone relate to that? We had 4 small children, including a 9 month old baby, and we had a private crisis going on that we kept completely to ourselves, determined to hide the fact that we were in a seriously rough patch.

It was early November in Idaho, and winter was sneaking up on us. The nights were cold, and even the daytimes were getting colder.

The problem was our furnace. Or our lack of one, I should say.  We needed $400 to get our furnace running, and it might as well have been $4 million. We were at the end…the very very very end, and there was nothing left. Winter coming, no furnace, and 4 small children. We were working as hard as we could and doing every single thing we could think of to make ends meet, and in a month or two we were sure that things would turn around….but November and the cold were already HERE.

We had been praying for an answer…for work to do…for a door to open…for a miracle.

My husband’s mother called me one day and toward the end of our ‘catching up’ conversation, out of the blue she said something like, “I’ve been meaning to tell you…I opened a savings account for you a couple of years ago and I’ve been putting a little money in there once in awhile, you know, for emergencies or whatever. It’s there for you to use when you need it. There’s a little over $400 in there right now.”

Well…

What do you say when you’re at the very end….the very very VERY end…sure that you can’t hold one for one more minute…and someone throws you a rope?

To this day, writing this to you makes me tear up and brings back those old feelings of being helpless and desperate, and then suddenly feeling RESCUED. They are powerful, tender feelings and memories, and I have to tell you that I loved that woman more than ever that day. She was our angel.

“how far that little candle throws its beams!
…so shines a good deed in a weary world…”
-William Shakespeare

So…the furnace was fixed….winter cold came and our little house was (thankfully) cozy and warm. On the evenings when I chased my barefoot little ones off to bed and tucked them in and closed their bedroom doors for the night, I smiled with gratitude for answered prayers and for loving hands that reached out and threw me a rope.