Who Rescued You?
Have you ever been so nervous that you feared freezing mid-sentence or blurting out the wrong word? My recent TV interview with Amy Khem was indeed a privilege but, I almost cancelled because I was overwhelmed with apprehension.
Everyone at Good Day PA on ABC27 was professional and inviting. However, my insides were electrified with terror. I feared becoming star-struck, staring into space, consumed in a complete daze the moment the director announce,”on the air in five, four, three, two, one…” I imagined being frozen in a hypnotic trance, mumbling the words, “Where was I going with this?”
At my age, this phenomenon of brain relapsing can happen several times a day, only this time I would be in front of thousands of viewers. Amy Kehm the host, proved to be an expert.
She promised to pull me through the interview, and rescue she did!
Amy saved the moment like many others in my life; my publisher, my editor, my grammar guru, and the one beta-reader I distressed over more than any other reader. The thought of this particular reader reviewing my literary labors of love sends daggers into the pit of my stomach!
Fear coerces us to say no to new adventures. Fear makes copping out easy. Ultimately, this creates feelings of regret. So it is a blessing when there is an Amy Kehm or a beta-reader who can restore your morale to new heights. I remember, (as a teenager who worried too much about what others thought,) when another living
creature rescued me from a dark abyss.
It was a beautiful day for a riding lesson on my heart horse. A thoroughbred named Joe. At the time, I did not own a horse of my own, but the instructor graciously offered Joe for me to ride or simply groom whenever I wanted. What a gift. We developed as quite a team, Joe and I, after one moment when I learned that Joe always had my back.
It was the final show of the year. The worse kind. A jump off with other students at the farm. Students my age that I wanted to impress with my style. Instead of the typical riding jodhpurs, I foolishly attired myself in my favorite over-worn bell bottom jeans, which were getting weak at the seams. What was I thinking? Who worried about red-carpet style at the barn? I wasn’t thinking about anything but me,
certainly not Joe.
I can’t really remember how many students were present. Nor the course or how many jumps. There was a small audience of parents and friends. Upon seeing the crowd and the three-foot jumps ( a first for me), my entire body stung with fear.
It was merely the first jump when the dreadful incident occurred. We were mid-air, Joe soaring over the first set of three-foot rails as I heard the horrid ripping sound. As soon as I felt the wind on my tush, I knew exactly what happened.
My bell bottom jeans split up the back seam revealing my psychedelic neon, lime bikini underwear. My mind raced with only one thought, flee! I wanted to leap off, and quit. Not Joe. He thought of us.
Joe cleared the first jump without any help from me. I wasn’t sitting in position, my heels weren’t down, and I gripped the reins too tightly, which forced the metal bit to see-saw in his mouth. How completely wrong as a rider, but I was wallowing in humiliation as my body banged my faithful steed from all angles. Joe should have been angry, but instead reached new heights in everyone’s heart.
My honorable steed cleared each fence in perfect pattern and form, even with my sideshow underwear peeking out through my flapping jeans. Beneath the snickers,
Joe impressed onlookers with his style.
Joe pulled me through like my most dreaded beta-reader whom I will forever miss…
My Mom.
My mom was the essence of a rarely pleased critic; a Goldilocks in search of perfection. Perhaps it was her own dread of failure or her phobia of MY failure.
But on the day she received her diagnosis of a brain tumor while we sat in the reception area of the doctor’s office, she told me she read my first book, Spurred to Justice, in two days and loved it.
Trust me, my mom wasn’t afraid to burden me with an honest review. After her acknowledgment, we sat before her scheduled appointment, editing the first chapter, unsuspecting the outcome of her brain scan. This moment I will hold ever so close in my heart. Thank you to all the Moms, Amys’, and Joes’ in our lives.
The rescuers.
There would be no sanity to life without them. Who rescued you? The concept of others ( including furry friends supporting your back,) is the theme of The Silver Cowgirls series. I felt the story in my heart. I hope you do too.
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