When a Promise Isn’t a Promise…Or is it?
I am the product of a deal sealed by shaking opposite ends of a stick behind an elementary school. A spunky 11-year-old cheerleader looked square into eyes of cocky football star in the making, one year her senior, and said, “We’re going to get married. And we are going to have one baby. Deal?”
With all the confidence and certainty that a wide-eyed twelve-year-old could muster, he returned the stare, accompanied by a smirk and confirmed, “Deal.” In the early sixties, it was less than civilized to for young sweethearts to exchange affection of any kind in public, even so much as a handshake, so they each held the end of an old stick found by a railroad track, and with one stern shake, my fate was sealed.
Oh the way that the Hallmark Channel would be knocking down my door if I could make the claim that my parents were junior high, high school, and college sweethearts, who married right after graduation and reared the maverick before you. My day job and side gigs would be a thing of the past, as I sat with producers and negotiated who should star as my character at ages 5 to present, and how much I would receive in royalties for the perfect love story. Instead, the Hallmark Channel owes me only half royalties because my parents’ love, while choppy, ended by the time I was thirteen, making deals behind my own junior high school with a budding basketball star.
Not only was there a divorce, but much like the love that they experienced, it was an eventful one. The only thing consistent, was the intensity of their love for me. And they indeed had different strengths. She was the one who nurtured me into my wildest dreams. Any and everything was possible. If I could imagine it, it existed, and she’d be there to celebrate. He fortified my rawest realities. He guaranteed that life would hit me hard, but he also guaranteed two things; that I came from good enough stock to get me through it, and he’d be there every single time to watch me come out on the other side.
Those who are unnecessarily sympathetic to the demise of their relationship might suggest, “Hey…at least they kept their promise to you.” Well that’s the thing; they did keep that first promise- to each other. More often than not, we decide that promises have been broken, because not all of the pieces and parts turn out the way that we desire. We forget that when the specific details of the commitments that we make have been fulfilled, then indeed the promise is kept.
My parents looked at each other in the back of that elementary school, near that railroad track, and promised two things: their marriage, and my existence. While this story would be a ridiculous type of long to break down the details of how I became the youngest of four for my dad, the only between them, and the oldest in a family blend (that is no longer blended), just know that the promise appeared to be broken all along the way. Somehow, in all of the detours, they managed to do just.what.they.said.
In the case of most of what we set out to do in life, rarely do we meet the goal without adjustments and detours that make the plan appear to derail altogether. Nevertheless, we can’t let that convince us that our life agendas are unmet. When I make commitments to myself whether it is about career, health, my spiritual journey, or any other rendition of self-improvement, I have to remember to celebrate my ability to do the basics and let the rest be a part of the process-- not to let the complications of the process keep me from rejoicing over the fact that the goal is met.
So what if you didn’t get the first job that you applied to? Your goal was to be financially self-sufficient. If that happened, rejoice! Upset that you met the deadline for the big presentation by the skin of your teeth? Remember that the real goal was to get in front of the new CEO and nail it. Didn’t get accepted to the first choice in graduate programs? You’re getting the degree. And again I say, rejoice! Life will always make the packaging seem more important than the promise of the contents inside.
I have learned to celebrate the promise over its packaging. Which one will you celebrate?