I’ve been a wreck lately.
My emotions on have been arching between profound gratitude to God and utter disbelief and, on the far spectrum, sadness that our kids are growing up so fast. It seems I’ve been waiting for years for them to gain some independence and strength, and now that it’s here, I find myself staring in the rear-view mirror, searching for scraps of their smallness. [Moms out there–can I get an ‘amen’?]
At the same time, I’ve been gifted with the most gigantic fluke you can imagine–if you believe in flukes [which, to be honest, I don’t, but this might be the closest I’ve come to considering it].
After working as a lowly creative copy writer for the Longaberger Company for five weeks, some of my projects seem to have sprouted legs and made their way up to the President’s desk [OMG], and then to Ms. Tami Longaberger herself [O.M.G!]. And, as if God decided to puppeteer some cosmic ‘Shazow‘, Tami liked my work. Loved it, actually.
So…I was asked by her to ghostwrite her book which will hopefully be coming out this fall.
It’s straight up crazy pants. I still think I could be living in some parallel universe somewhere dreaming this all up. I’m waiting for George Jetson to fly in with Astro and tell me it’s an enormous joke.
The caveat, however beautiful and fantastic this opportunity, is that the entire book is due on May 1.
Of this year.
And we’re leaving for vacation soon.
[searching for an inhaler or strong drink right now…]
I feel just…utterly undone and thankful and speechless at this turn of events.
What is God doing? What in THEE WORLD??
And so, I sit in the kitchen and stare at the artwork on my fridge wrought by tiny hands and expanding minds, and I’m a wreck.
And I think about this book, and I feel like a poser. I am not “a real author.” I am trying to be, but I never thought my trial-run would be working with the owner of a multi-million dollar company. So you can imagine, I’m a wreck.
A lovely and thankful wreck.