I feel like I’ve been operating on pure hope lately, propelling our fundraising efforts along by sheer force of will. To be perfectly honest, I’m exhausted. I wish I could say that I’m weary because of all the difference I’m making and all the good work I’m doing, and I know that’s what I should be saying…but I’m not. In many ways the thing that’s most exhausting is the lack of importance and purpose in my everyday life. In these moments I feel somewhat defeated. I feel like as a leader I should be inspiring and full of gusto, but I could use some inspiration myself.
The truth is I believe wholeheartedly in what I’m doing–which, perhaps, is part of the reason it’s so exhausting to continually be promoting it and asking for help to make it a reality; “don’t you understand?” I find myself thinking. “This is so important!” So I think in the spirit of keeping myself inspired and continuing to reconnect with the thing that originally propelled me into a path that was so far removed from my expectations, I’ve decided to create this list. It’s an ongoing list, but then again, so am I.
- How hard do you think it will be? It will be harder. Boy, if I could just really learn this it might save me a lot of self-criticism and self-resentment. But honestly, there was no way I could have prepared for how difficult Ghana would be for me, or how much of a challenge fundraising would be. I couldn’t have anticipated how hard I would struggle to be patient and have grace for myself in the times when I feel like I’m learning so much, but not learning fast enough. Because what we’re doing is incredibly difficult, and we are giving of ourselves every single day.
- Hold your plans loosely. No, looser. Throughout this process, one of the biggest challenges for me has been to let go of my expectations for how this project should look, and that continues to be true today. I postponed grad school at the very beginning simply to go to Ghana; I had to learn how to adapt while I was there; I have had to go to Plans B and C since I’ve returned to the States. And that’s okay. This project has taught me patience, flexibility, and faith–and all of them are still difficult and all of them are necessary. It’s like learning how to get back in shape–it takes time, practice patience. (Yes, Kaitlyn. It takes patience.)
- Say thank you. Now say it again. I have been beyond blessed by the friends and family who have supported this project from its beginning–the people who have donated time, money, services, skills, and emotional stability when we’ve asked them. And believe me, we have asked them. Being a friend to Brady and me has lately probably seemed like a Herculean task because we are always asking more. Donations for silent auctions, participating in the auctions, share this with your Facebook friends, buy some tickets, can we stay with you, take our picture, make this video, design the building–and yet, they’ve been unwavering. This morning my mom confronted me about her concern that the literacy center project was resting too heavily on just our shoulders, but the fact is that if we weren’t resting on the shoulders of our community, we would have collapsed long ago. “Thank you” really doesn’t cover it, but it’s a pretty okay place to start. So thank you. And thank you again.
- People will say no. Deal with it. As much as our friends and family have been supportive, we have also faced rejection. Some of it has stung worse than others, but rejection has accompanied our journey just as love and support. The difference is this: Without support, rejection feels unbearable; with support, rejection is a minor setback. And as I outlined in #3, we have mountains of support. The challenge is to let the rejections go, and not pick and worry at them until they’re big festering wounds. And we can let them go, even though sometimes it’s hard.
- Remember WHY. It’s tough to set aside the silent auctions and the galas and the donation requests and remember how I felt while I was in Ghana, when all I wanted to do was to sit beneath a tree with a book and read to the kids. Kids who had grown up without the privilege of books, of parents who had the time or ability to read to them–who were growing up fast without the power of stories to show them how. When it comes down to it, it doesn’t matter how much money we can raise to build a literacy center (although that is still very much the goal); what matters is sharing stories, sparking creativity, helping to change a narrative not chosen by them. It’s about the untold potential and the untold stories that can unlock it.
I’m still exhausted, but my hope has been renewed. It’s true that I’m just one person, and that I’m only human, but if there’s one thing a life of books has taught me, it’s that one person can change the story–all he/she needs is help and hope and a reason to change.
