Lots of faith.”
This was my answer several months ago when a reporter asked me how a previously antisocial, hopelessly outdated girl ended up the creator of Tucson’s biggest social gala in years.
Well, he didn’t phrase my status exactly like that, but I was on the verge of social extinction as I approached my life goal date of thirty. But on the cusp of thirty, I discovered I had faith, purpose, and best of all…potential. I turned an inheritance of vintage clothing into a fund-raiser for Golden Horizons Retirement Center that is still being talked about today. I ended up with the job I used to take for granted and now love. And I met Beau, a great, datable guy (stuff of urban myth), and through a strange turn of events he proved to be a humane, stellar boss as well.
For the first few months of my new and improved existence I was certain that the center would drop like a faulty Times Square New Year’s ball and crash into a million glittery pieces.
My friend Angelica Ross, a former college pal who has known me through thick and rarely thin, pointed out to me that while our friend Caitlin Ramirez is a “glass half full” gal, I am a half-full-with-a-twist person. When I say the proverbial life situation glass is “half full,” I say it like an accusation—merely to point out that by being half full it is indeed half empty.
She was right.
At least I used to be this way. My dear friend Tess Childers, who passed away last year, taught me how important it is to don an attitude appropriate for the life season. And this is a good season. Brilliant with sun, and I don’t just mean the Tucson blaze above, but rather the brightness of hope for good things. From Tess I inherited the fabulous collection of designer wear and a deeper capacity for joy. As a reminder of all she taught me in our time together at Golden Horizons, I wear the key to the clothes trunks on a bracelet. It isn’t a fashion statement by any means, but it is a faith statement.
I owe my chance at this new life to Angelica, Caitlin, and Sadie Verity. Last year was all about me. I was on a quest for the good life. At one point I even had a job at Majestic Vista Luxury Resort and a car with real payments, not just bills from the mechanics. Of course, this new life I was so desperate for did not take into account the fact that I really did love my old life, including the work at Golden Horizons. I don’t know why I never comprehended how much a person goes through when they work against their purpose.
Faith, combined with a desire to shake up my old life and find a new one, led me to this place of contentment. I am grateful. But this year, in the fairness of a carefully orchestrated universe, it is someone else’s turn to step into the limelight.
Sadie is five months into an eleven-month engagement, so she is the obvious choice. Her fiancé, Carson Curtis, is kind, handsome, successful, and generous. Sadie glows with happiness. But I have noticed a slight imperfection in the normally flawless veneer that is Sadie. In the throes of wedding plans she is a bit…scattered, moody. Dare I say unstable?
I sense she is about to crack, but I don’t mention this to her face in case she does pull a Humpty Dumpty. I would feel responsible.
Every book I have skimmed on aisle 4 at the bookstore says that her change of personality is typical behavior for a bride to be. It is completely normal for the woman to get a bit nervous and unglued with each step closer to the altar of commitment. That book, however, says nothing (and I checked the index) about whether it is normal for the friends surrounding the bride to act equally deranged. Sadly, I could only deduce that the absence of the topic indicated that our individual quirky responses were either very weird or so taboo of a subject that the author and publisher behind The Blissful Bride could not bear to shed light on it.
Chapter 10 of the aforementioned book says that Sadie will indeed survive this time of emotional upheaval, identity change, and a million-and-one little decisions to achieve her time of bliss. But I’m beginning to wonder if the rest of us can survive the next six months.
Dang. That glass always gets in the way of my progress.