As many of you know I was scheduled to be on Nancy Aronie's Writing from the Heart segment on Lime Radio today. The subject was A Time I Wasn't Invited .... Hmmm.
Well, I was invited, but with the constraints of live radio, sometimes they can't get everyone on the air. Now the upside of this is I captured a moment in my life and as the song goes, "no one can take that away from me."
I'm going to work on getting a recording of the story (my own recording) up here, but in the meantime, I thought you might be interested in reading it. Here you go ...
A time I wasn’t invited …
They said they were going out. But what about me? Why couldn’t I go? Where were they going anyway? They said it was an adult party, no children were allowed. They said I would have more fun at the nursery. Yes, nursery. I was only four.
So, Mom and Dad took me to the Army post nursery. My dad was a Lt. Colonel at the time. There were lots of protocol events they attended and I was always shuffled off. For my own good, of course.
This memory is sketchy—a stark building, 6 or 8 other children of all ages, a lady who ran the activities, a linoleum floor, cribs and beds for napping. But I do remember sitting in a circle on the cold floor singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm and playing Duck, Duck, Goose. I also remember finger painting, and why I remember the color green, I don’t know. It was all lots of fun and I didn’t miss my parents at all. In fact, I’m not sure I even realized they were gone until Dad picked me up out of the bed and carried me to the car. I slept in the back seat of lots of cars as a youngster as evening was often a time for travel.
I wonder now, why does time seem non-existent as a young child? Why do we miss our parents in the anticipation of their absence more than their actual absence when we are very young? Why would we want to be by their side while they drink and talk about silly things rather than playing with other children and having fun singing, dancing, coloring, and creating.
Maybe we were worried about what we’d miss. Maybe we wondered if they’d ever come back. Maybe we were afraid of what may happen where we were to be left.
Isn’t this a great lesson in honoring a process? Even as an adult there are times I’m on my way to a speaking engagement or a class or some gathering, and all the way there I’m thinking, “I don’t want to do this, I really don’t want to do this.” And once I’m there I find that I have a grand time. I get to meet new people, share stories, find new connections, see new perspectives—sing, dance, and create. I find that my fear sometimes lies.
Isn’t this what invitations are about? Whether you’re invited or not, it’s all about the experience. You’re experience. My experience. It is what we make it. Too often we think of not being invited as being left out, being shunned, being forgotten, or not being liked. Sometimes not being invited is a better time, a more fun time.
I have found that I am sometimes relieved that I wasn’t invited to an event. I don’t have to find that “black tie” outfit to wear. I don’t have to put on makeup. I don’t have to feel the anxiety of having a less-than-model-shaped figure. I don’t have to shake hands with strangers, put on a smile that I may not feel, drink alcohol, which I rarely do, or watch what I say lest it tarnish my image. Sometimes staying home is the best invitation I could ever ask for.
