I’m a house frau. I live a relatively ordinary suburban life in New England. Technically speaking, I’m a nobody. My name has never been in lights, I have about 14 Twitter followers, I have a moderate talent for writing. But I do have something that makes me very special. God lives inside of me. Yep. Crazy, right? I mean, I’m not religious. I don’t even go to church. I’ve never read The Old Testament and I don’t celebrate Ramadan. But God still hangs out in my heart. Who’d imagine He’d make time for a nobody like me? But He does. Somehow He remembers me. Everyday He encourages me to be better, to try harder, to do the best I can with the time I have.
I’m a writer. I write about spiritual awakening. I hope to share my experiences in hopes of inspiring others to live more mindfully. This is my small contribution to world peace. I’d like to grow my audience and make a larger contribution to world peace, but that’s hard to do when you’re nobody. But I keep on posting blogs and mailing submissions to Oprah and creating slightly embarrassing YouTube videos because I care. Because I want to do my part. Because if God is going to grace me with the opportunity to live a whole lifetime with His beautiful energy in my heart, I want to do my very best with it.
I have an affirmation card hanging on my refrigerator that says, “It’s happening.” I love that card. It’s powerful. Every morning I pull out my Stoneyfield Farm Banilla yogurt and think, “Oh yah. I’ve got to pull my load today because it’s happening. Can’t let God down. He knows that I know that I know that He knows. Time to work.” So I pick up my phone and reach out to people who know I’m a nobody and cross my fingers they’ll see that God lives in my heart. If I can’t convince them to return my calls, maybe He will. I send emails and fumble around over-designed social media sites, strike up overly-honest conversations after yoga class and take advice from my brilliant sister – all to create connections with the just-right people to help me on my mission. Sometimes it works (ding ding ding!) and sometimes I’m rejected. But the rejection doesn’t feel like failure to me. Rejection isn’t personal. It’s just a sign that I’m not ready for that experience yet or that I’m sniffing out the wrong lead.
I’m not afraid. Nope. No way. I’m not afraid to try. Trying is risky because buried deep inside of the word “try” is the word “fail”. But also hidden in that word is “Congratulations! You did it! You passed! Now jump back in the game and try something else – there’s a lot of work to do with your life and time’s a-ticking!” This Nobody’s got her eyes trained on the latter.