{"id":2535,"date":"2011-09-25T21:29:53","date_gmt":"2011-09-25T21:29:53","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/?p=2535"},"modified":"2011-09-26T01:41:32","modified_gmt":"2011-09-26T01:41:32","slug":"losing-yesterday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/2011\/09\/25\/losing-yesterday\/","title":{"rendered":"Losing Yesterday"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

My friend Angie symbolizes a beautiful gift that each of us has the opportunity to grasp. <\/p><\/div>\n

I started writing stories at the age seven. I have vivid memories of sitting in my childhood bedroom filling an entire notebook in a single afternoon.<\/p>\n

My mom saved an assortment of my earliest notebooks and recently brought them to me in a large box. It was profoundly moving to look at the bound collection of old stories and realize I had not let the writing part of my heart die with age.<\/p>\n

You see, this is what my bedroom floor looks like right now.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

(Pardon me while I say something to my father. Dad, I promise I will never call your \u201cpile\u201d system of organization messy again.)<\/em><\/p>\n

As you can see, I am still filling notebooks, writing on scraps of paper, and scrawling permanent messages on whatever movable surface I can find.<\/p>\n

Yet, in my 32 years of committing eloquent words to paper, I have never entered a writing contest.<\/p>\n

So when my friend Shannon presented the submission guidelines for a writing contest she read about in a well-known magazine, I agreed to take a look.<\/p>\n

As she handed me the entry rules, she spoke with such conviction \u2026 as if my life depended on entering this contest.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou have to enter this, Rachel. You can win this.\u201d<\/p>\n

I felt the hairs on my arms stand straight up.<\/p>\n

I looked down and read the contest question, \u201cWho are you most surprised to be friends with?\u201d and then the words, \u201cWinner receives $1,000.\u201d<\/p>\n

I immediately knew the answer to the writing prompt question; it was the same person to whom I would give the prize money, if I should miraculously win.<\/p>\n

There was only one small (literally, small<\/em>) problem. The maximum length for the writing submission was 300 words.<\/p>\n

300 words!*#! Are you kidding me??? <\/em><\/p>\n

Let\u2019s just put it this way \u2026 I\u2019m the person whose phone messages run so long, I tend to get cut off. I\u2019m the lady who has to \u2018continue on the back\u2019 when filling out a comment card. I\u2019m the nerd who actually types her thank you notes because the cute little cards are simply too small for everything I have to say.<\/p>\n

I just couldn\u2019t imagine how I, the wordiest of all wordy people in the world, could write a winning story in less than 300 words.<\/p>\n

But for the woman I was writing about, my dear friend Angie, I could do anything<\/em> for her.<\/p>\n

So for the first time in my life, I was succinct.<\/p>\n

Here is my 290-word contest submission:<\/p>\n

Intertwined By The Wind<\/strong><\/p>\n

She\u2019s collard greens, barbeque ribs, and Granny\u2019s cornbread. I\u2019m California rolls, wasabi, and edamame.<\/p>\n

She ends her sentences with acronyms like LOL and LMBO followed by a never-ending row of exclamation points. I couldn\u2019t bring myself to use Internet slang if I was using twigs to create a distress signal.<\/p>\n

She performs expressive worship dances in front of entire church congregations. I can\u2019t imagine dancing in public without consuming at least one glass of wine.<\/p>\n

She\u2019s the moxie of Queen Latifah mixed with the timeless beauty of Erykah Badu. I\u2019m a bubbly version of Sporty Spice with Martha Stewart tendencies.<\/p>\n

Friends like us don\u2019t meet at the park, Starbucks, or in the Ten Items Or Less<\/em> line.<\/p>\n

Friends like us meet providentially.<\/p>\n

While I was huddled in my basement with my two young daughters praying for our lives, she was about to lose one of the few things that truly mattered on this earth.<\/p>\n

When I found out this woman lost her daughter and would be caring for her two young grandchildren, I knew I had to go to her.
\n <\/em><\/p>\n

A tornado can bring together the most unlikely pair.
\n<\/em><\/p>\n

I\u2019ll never forget when I drove up to her house, my car loaded down with children\u2019s clothing and toy donations from my neighbors.<\/p>\n

From an outsider, we probably looked like the 21st<\/sup> century version of \u201cThe Odd Couple,\u201d but to us, it was the embrace of a long-lost sister.<\/p>\n

She invited me in and we talked; we laughed; we cried. In three mere hours, she not only became my forever friend, she also became my hero.<\/p>\n

I intended to add a little light to her eyes during a devastating time, but instead she has illuminated mine forever.<\/p>\n

<\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/p>\n

————————————<\/p>\n

After several weeks of waiting, I found out I didn\u2019t win \u2026 the writing contest, that is.<\/p>\n

But I have won something far greater.<\/p>\n

You see, I am one of those people who have trouble forgiving myself for past mistakes. I am one of those people who can be downright cruel, beating herself up over poor choices, wasted opportunities, and daily failures.\u00a0 Although I encourage my friends, family, and blog readers to just \u201clet go\u201d and move on, I have difficulty allowing myself the same privilege.<\/p>\n

Until last Saturday.<\/p>\n

Just days after discovering my submission was not chosen in the writing contest, I met Angie and her family at the zoo.<\/p>\n

When I saw Angie and her two precious grandbabies walking toward me with radiant smiles that challenged the sun, I felt as if an enormous weight was being lifted.<\/p>\n

And when Angie grasped me in her arms and held me with every ounce of love and gratitude she felt in her heart, I knew. I knew why my life had intersected with Angie\u2019s on my journey to grasp what matters.<\/p>\n

In my 39th<\/sup> birthday post<\/a> last January, I wrote these words:<\/p>\n

I have today.<\/em> <\/em><\/p>\n

Yesterday is gone. All the mistakes, failures, poor choices, and the things I wish I could do over \u2026 they are gone.<\/em> <\/em><\/p>\n

Today stands before me with its arms wide open.<\/em> <\/em><\/p>\n

All I have to do is grasp it.<\/em><\/p>\n

I wrote those words, but at time, I didn\u2019t believe they applied to me.<\/p>\n

But now I do.<\/p>\n

You see, Angie IS my today. She holds her arms wide open, allowing me to step into a beautiful new beginning despite what happened yesterday, a week ago, or ten years ago. Through her, I have the opportunity to make this moment<\/em> in my life significant in any way that I can.<\/p>\n

And what I didn\u2019t believe in January 2010, but do now is this:<\/p>\n

The gift of today is not an exclusive \u201cwinning ticket\u201d for only a select few. It is not just for those who are chosen by a panel of judges or by a jury of their peers. It is not solely for those deemed \u201cworthy\u201d by some unattainable standard.<\/p>\n

The gift of today is available to you; it is available to me. It is for anyone who wants to make this moment<\/em> the kind of moment in which hope and courage are born.<\/p>\n

Today is waiting with open arms. So what are you waiting for? Jump into her arms and never look back.<\/p>\n

********************************************<\/p>\n

Do you beat yourself up about mistakes in the past? Do you ever feel consumed with guilt over missed opportunities or daily failures? <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Imagine waking up tomorrow and finding the remains of yesterday completely erased and the opportunity to begin anew is right at your fingertips. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

You don\u2019t have to imagine. Today holds the opportunity to grasp what matters, even if you have not quite managed it in the past. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

*Have you put off calling someone to make amends? Do it today.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

*Have you put off pursuing your true passion because you\u2019ve been too busy? Do it today.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

*Have you put off starting an exercise program because you just don\u2019t have time? Do it today.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

*Have you put off creating a blog? Entering a photography contest? Selling a piece of your art or handmade clothing on Etsy? Do it today.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

*Have you put off taking a weekend excursion with your significant other because the time is never right? Do it today. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Tomorrow is gone, but a beautiful, glorious, and forgiving today stands before you with arms wide open.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Rachel & Angie<\/p><\/div>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I started writing stories at the age seven. I have vivid memories of sitting in my childhood bedroom filling an entire notebook in a single afternoon. My mom saved an assortment of my earliest notebooks and recently brought them to me in a large box. It was profoundly moving to look at the bound collection […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":2543,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[79],"tags":[304,551,552,553,555,549,556,554,382],"gutentor_comment":8,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/09\/IMG_5755-e1316710181147.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1fUJF-ET","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2535"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2535"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2535\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2535"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2535"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.handsfreemama.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2535"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}