Last night, a life-long dream came true: I met Anne Lamott.
I mean, it was like sunshine and puppies, glitter and sparkles and all that is merry and bright because in a totally normal, I-swear-I-don’t-pedastool-her that much, she’s My Girl. She’s that mentor I’d never actually met, the one who taught me to accept that I am Loved and Chosen, Loved and Chosen, and love this Loving and Choosing Jesus in return, in a way only I know how. She’s the one who’s reminded me to notice the little things, enveloping every detail of the senses. She’s the teacher who gave me freedom to be me, and she’s the instructor who encouraged me to write, telling me that it’s good to be funny, if you’re funny, that is.
Because she finds Grace-Grace-Grace in the messiness, and beauty in the interweaving threads of The Divine One in her 60 years of a story. And she somehow, someway then reaches a wide audience of messy, imperfect, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed humans who just want reminders that they belong, that Ordinary is Normal and Good and Exquisite all at the same time, that laughter is soul-food. So her creative mind looks around, and she extracts yet another metaphor out of the stuff around her, and we, her readers, cheer “Brilliant! Brilliant!” and parched, we salivate for more.
But really, Anne’s just being herself. She’s just putting pen to paper, and doing what she knows best, which (I think) is found in writing.
So I’ll continue to do what she’s taught me to do: I’ll carry a notebook with me and record-record-record, but then I’ll throw that to the side and be present in every conversation, and in nature, and in the mundane, ordinariness of life.
And I’ll stop saying, “I want to be just like Annie Lamott someday!” affectionally calling her Annie, and dreaming of the Writer-Life. Because since this Writer-Life is actually a reality, I need stop saying I’m going to write a book, and actually put my words to paper, beyond the 600-1000 word maximum I’ve lazily fallen trap to with blogs and guest posts and articles.
Because that, I think, is exactly what my mentor would want me to do.
What about you? Who’s a mentor of yours you’ve never actually met? (I have no snarky third question today – I just really, really like Anne Lamott).0