Thursday, August 8, 2013

whatever will be, will be.


When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother
What will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich? 
Here's what she said to me:
Que sera, sera 
Whatever will be, will be. 
The future's not ours to see. 
Que sera, sera
What will be, will be.

- "Que Sera Sera," by Jay Livingston and Ray Evans

There are three different posts sitting in my drafts bin, posts written during moments when -- I am sorry to say -- I thought I knew what I was doing. 

My opinions on this job and on this season change daily, and I suppose that's why it's harder than usual to know what to say or when to say it. 

Plus, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it's so much easier to opine and reflect when a season is over and done with, when the chapter is ended and the book is closed. 

But to write down your thoughts and your opinions while you're living it, while it's happening

I just don't know how safe that is, and I know for a fact it isn't easy. 

We still haven't signed anything. 

If you've been following this story from the beginning, you know that this summer was intended to be a period of transition, a time to see if Jordan and I have what it takes to buy into this business I've come to love so much. I needed two months to decide if we could take this large financial and personal leap, and you know? 

Two months may not have been long enough. 

The truth is, saying goodbye to the little store in Tallahassee was harder than I may have let on. And saying hello to a new town and a new store and new coworkers and new routines has been so difficult and, some days, so painful that my vision has become clouded. I am, perhaps not-so-shockingly, finding it difficult to make a decision. I just can't seem to pull the trigger. 

Of course, life doesn't let us sit in a waiting room for too long. A deadline, of sorts, looms ahead, and I'm scrambling to get as many ducks in a row as I can before we put pen to paper. 

What does this mean, practically? 

It means I'm typing up business plans and praying for clarity. It means I'm analyzing staffing issues and determining next steps and future measures. It means I'm learning how to pay bills and post receipts, and I'm spending a lot of nights in tears and frustration because honestly? It's a lot. I've had more than one minor meltdown, and I'd rather not have many more. 

Two months ago, I think I was closer to a final decision than I am today. And that's a little scary. 

But I also know that's life. And it moves and changes and shifts, and sometimes we, too, then have to move and change and shift. 

Once this business plan is presented to the current staff and owner, I think Jordan and I will more confidently know what next steps to take. And that has me so incredibly hopeful, because any decision will be better than this limbo we've been living. 

I want to believe that in six weeks time, Jordan and I will be co-owneers in a business together. We'll be working hard to bring books to the masses, to supporting a literary community in a Southern town we'll be starting to call our own. We'll have found a house, and we'll be inching our way toward making it ours.

I want those dreams to come true. 

But. 

If, for whatever reason, they don't? 

I suppose I'll be okay with that, too. 

And maybe that's what I'm supposed to learn from all of this. Maybe I'm supposed to unclench my fists a little, to let go of the plans and the goals and the to-do lists and know that yes, whatever happens, happens. 

And we will be okay regardless. 

5 comments:

francy said...

That is the greatest blessing that you have to keep in mind "regardless you will be okay." You are blessed that such a large life change is a decision that you get to make for yourself. Being okay either way is cherry.

As a long time lurker, I knew you were busy this last month while I was wondering how things were going and what you were reading. Thanks for writing tonight.

Ray Sherlock said...

So glad you share your story. You make each of us feel like we are not alone. Take a moment and listen to Francesca Battistelli song, Time in Betwween.
Next weeks Ray of Hope will use this song. I have learned to be thankful as I lift empty hands waiting for them to be filled. You are sharing a fantastic journey and I am thankful that you are who you are.

UR

Hailey Marie said...

I've been checking back almost daily, so anxious for some news on how everything is unfolding! This update perfectly captures the excitement and anxiousness of the moment, and safe or not, your ability to clearly and passionately communicate details of everyday life as you are actually living it is what captivates and inspires those with whom you are sharing this incredible journey! Though there may not be any concrete answers or solidified plans yet, your honesty about the unknown of it all reflects the deep preparation already taking place in your heart and mind and you'll be ready for anything that comes your way... can't wait to hear more!!

Sabrina said...

You all are in my prayers often:) Peace and wisdom to you Annie! I tried to be all sly and mail you something to the store. I hope it got there!

Amber T said...

Letting go feels so suffocating sometimes. Just the thought of relinquishing what I identify as control can seem daunting at best. And then, as my fingers lose their hold and that control-mirage slips loose from my hand, I realize I hadn't the least bit of a chance of changing anything but the feelings within my own heart.

Life's scary sometimes. And you're so brave. Brave for tackling the scariness, brave for writing transparently about it, brave for sharing your heart. (Have you heard the song Brave by Sara Bareilles? It's the perfect anthem for times such as this)