Beating the boys
It was the summer of 1987. My friend Aubrey and I sat on the shag carpet with magazine clippings surrounding us. Pictures of famous people were cut out and pasted into the notebooks each of us entitled, “My Future.”
Ten year-old me
On the first page with Elmer’s glue oozing from the sides a beautiful mansion was labeled “Dianne’s first house.” I had scoured the magazines to find pictures of super models with brown curly hair that could star on my notebook pages as me living out my plans to be a famous singer and actress. With scissors I carefully cut out and pasted Paula Abdul, the famous singer/choreographer unto the next page. With looping cursive I wrote, Best Friend, we do everything together.
For the Family page, I found a picture of the blond bombshell television star, Cybill Shepherd with her twins. I wrote below the cut-out: While being pregnant with twins I wanted to see if blonds have more fun. I named the twins Brittany and Whitney. This famous life did not come without struggle. On the next page I pasted my suitors: Jonny Depp, Michael J Fox, and Tom Cruise after all you couldn’t be a movie star without a few break-ups.
My career was vast as I added pictures of super models and ice skaters. On the last page I wrote Olympic Runner, there was no picture attached, just a longing to run the fastest. After hours of cutting, gluing, and writing I carelessly cast aside the scissors. Dreaming of the future took time and still there were empty pages to fill.
From the eyes of a child the future is an empty page full of endless possibilities.
This is the philosophy we want our children to have. We want them to reach for the stars. But in truth, to believe nothing is impossible is an audacious way to live. As I sit in my writing chair, after I have lived out over 20 years of my adult life I don’t see the world in the same unlimited way.
I see price tags. I feel jet lag. I learned my body has limits after giving birth to four children. To do amazing things it takes talent, hard work, and tenacity. The wonder of the future has somehow leaked out of me. Sadly, I can quickly shoot down any reason to dream at all. To be honest, in this season of life I struggle with the negative question:
Is it too late for me?
In the midst of self-doubt I decided to take a moment to imagine talking to the ten year-old me, about our life. What would it be like to stand side by side and look at who we have become?
I was sure she would study my Mom hands and in a small voice remind me, “Look at our fingers they are long enough to play piano now.” Every night as a child I dreamed of being able to play the melodies I heard in my head.
I know she would like my four children, especially Judah because he has her imagination.
Then when she was sure I was watching she would run, because she was always trying to beat her brothers in a race. Out of breath she would ask, “We still run right?”
I would look at my younger self. I would brush the soft brown curls from her eyes and I would say, “Yes, Dianne we run miles.”
She would look at me silently for a moment then she would laugh, one of those belly laughs kids can let loose so freely.
“Can we beat the boys?”
I would think about this for a while. I am uncertain I haven’t tried in a long time. I reason, if I can beat my husband and my grown son in a long distance race…
I let my imagination stretch a little…
“Yes we can beat the boys.”
She looks at me again as she thinks about this. Then she takes my hand and we walk together to a park. We swing on the swings. We climb the slide. We run together. She is talking about all the things she wants to be when she grows up.
“Big Dianne, are you a choreographer like Paula Abdul?”
Not wanting to let her down I think hard. “Yes, I have made up dances, one was for a gathering of 500 people and my 2 daughters were in it.”
She would stop to pluck a flower as she tried to think of another question.
With a silly grin she’d ask, “Did you marry a hunk?”
Giggling with her I’d admit that I had.
“Does he have a spike and a rat tail?” she would inquire bashfully.
“He used to,” I’d boast while continuing, “but he rides a motorcycle.”
At the top of the hill she would challenge me to roll down it with her. Down we would tumble. My head spinning and her mind still thinking of all the possibilities of us. At the bottom of the hill we would sit a moment in quiet thought as the world would keep spinning around us.
Then she would come lay her head on my side. She would reach for my hand and she would say, “I believe in you. “
I would put my arm around her and I would say… “I believe in you too Dianne. You are brave, and kind, you are determined, and fun, you are talented, and you have a heart for the person who feels left out. You will do great things for God. You will even persevere through hard situations. One day you will have four children and a handsome husband. But most importantly you will beat your brothers in a race.”
With a content sigh she would say,“I like us.”
And I would agree.
It seems like a silly idea to have a conversation with your 10 year-old self, but at the same time it is important to stop and think about the younger version of us. How would the kid you think about the adult person you have become? Have you lost the wonder and zeal the small version of you had for life?
I don’t know where that notebook went full of all “My Future” dreams, but as I put on my running shoes, compression pants and fanny pack. I might look ridiculous but inside I still carry the girl who is determined to beat the boys, and with her I will.