***Well, Candyland has graciously asked me to guest blog and I'm stoked! I've never really blogged before so this should be good, (or not). At first I was thinking to re-live some awesome college stories, like the roast beef-in-the-ear incident, but after running them by Miss Candyland (aka the Boss), she decided most of them were pretty gross. Soooooo, we're going in another direction.
So when I was about 12 years old, I was waiting for the old man to do something with me in the backyard, when I ventured into the garage to pass the time (snoop). After climbing through cobwebs (he screams like a girly man at the sight of spiders) and who knows what else, I found his golf clubs. It's quite possible that in my first 12 years of life my dad had never played golf, so the fact that I was about to put holes in the back yard (and cut a mini tee box with scissors in the grass) was baffling to my parents.
Within 2 years, I had quit every sport I'd ever participated in. Somewhere I heard golfers got lots of chicks, probably the same place I heard girls like nice guys, not a-holes (aww). Anyway, this journey would provide a source of pride, heartache, anger, friendships and life lessons that I never anticipated learning or, more often that not, not learning soon enough.
After a few years of tooling around, I was pretty good. Now to be clear, I played in tournaments all summer and knew that I wasn't great, but the local high school knew I was coming and the coach was excited about the proposition. In fact, my sophomore year we went undefeated (after being defeated 0-whatever my freshman year) and started to break records at my school. The start of my senior year started off like a dream. Our first tournament is one we hosted, in honor of a kid killed in a car accident, and I won the tournament and had a great year.
I headed off to college to play golf and, no laughing, major in golf management (hahaha, sorry, had to). I had a scholarship, the coach loved me and I was awesome...until I didn't make the team. 65 kids tried out for 15 spots, so my chances weren't the best to begin with (so I still tell myself). Head to my sophomore year and I don't make the team. I've never been so embarrassed or lacking any semblance of confidence.
At one point my assistant coach asked me, "How long has it been since you went swimming?"
"I don't know, years I guess."
"Well if I pushed you into a pool, could you still swim?"
"Of course," I said.
"Then why in the hell can't you hit a golf ball?"
To be honest, I still can't answer that question. All that I know is after 4 years of college and never making our team (all the while keeping my scholarship, thanks coach) I couldn't stand golf anymore and conceded that I would never be able to play at a level I wanted to (or was able to). Then a year later, while playing the least amount of golf I've played since I started ten years earlier, I won our city championship.
All of the work I'd put in for years finally paid off. The lessons I mentioned are too numerous to name, but one day they sank in, and everything turned out like it was supposed to be.
What the hubs is trying to say is, things don't always turn out the way we'd hoped, but usually we end up right where we're supposed to be. Even if it takes years of trying, re-writes, revisions, rejections and self-doubt, NEVER GIVE UP. Persevere. You're YES is out there. And guess what? I'll be right here with a virtual shoulder until then, and right here with a virtual hug when it does. We're in this together, sweet darlings.
PS. I STILL need pics for Friday's dedication! I only have one!!! If you want to be a part of it, email a picture that means something to you to firstname.lastname@example.org.