courage Archives - Page 2 of 2

A Phone Call

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 7, 2013
Post category:31 Days of Victory

I made a phone call.

That’s it. That’s my victory. It’s embarrassing to admit it, but that’s what I want to celebrate from day 6.

It might seem like a small thing to you, but it is not to me. I hate phone calls. I don’t even particularly like talking to my friends on the phone. If I have something to tell you, I would rather walk to your house and tell you than call you on the phone.

But this phone call was motivated by love. I had arranged a little get together for a friend’s birthday last night at a nearby restaurant (and that in itself I can celebrate because I am not an organizer of people). In the afternoon, it occurred to me that I should make a reservation. I argued with myself a little, trying to convince myself it was unnecessary, but in the end I decided that I wanted the night to go well for my friend, and that required a reservation.

So I made the call. Victory! Secondary victory: having the guts to admit that this is a significant victory to me. Double bounce!

What are you calling victory today?

Looking for friends

Post author:Gina B
Post published:December 19, 2012
Post category:courage transition

Boxes unpacked, check. (if I just don’t open the office door).

Walls painted, mostly check.

Nearest grocery store, Walmart, Target located, check.

Invisible fence installed, check.

Find new friends . . . oy.

Truth be told, I am an introvert. A talkative introvert, which causes no small amount of dissonance for me, but an introvert nonetheless. I am tempted to say, “Hey, I’ve got a couple good friends here in Orlando. I’m calling it good!” But that seems horribly shortsighted and unsociable, so I did what I guess the average American woman does this time of year and I went to a neighborhood cookie exchange.

After a few desperate, somewhat humbling texts to a new neighbor clarifying that I did not, in fact, have to bring actual cookies (I hate sugar cookies. I’m a bar kind of girl), I headed out to the party. It was only a block and a half away, and as I walked, I pondered my emotions. I was dreading small talk and the inevitable shock and awe when I explain my life. I was nervous that I wouldn’t fit in, that people wouldn’t want to talk to me, that I wouldn’t meet anyone I liked. I was excited that I might meet someone who could become a good friend. In short, I felt like a kindergartener on the first day of school (although I imagine the average five year old brings little to the table that evokes shock or awe).

There were probably 50 women at this event! Most of them were older than me. A few homeschool as well. Most seemed to attend this annual party regularly. Almost everyone talked about how much they love living in our neighborhood (certainly a good sign).

I walked away knowing a couple women a little more, bearing invites to a clothing swap and a regular wine and cheese chat with a couple girls down the street, and wielding a large plate of cookies. I can’t say I can check the box on “new friends” (I realize now a part of me was really hoping it would be that easy) but it was a step in the right direction.