"Tomorrow will be different." or "Tomorrow I'll get it right."
I'm pretty sure I say that almost on a daily basis...especially when it comes to cooking. :) Lately I feel like I am on the edge of a cliff - a very high, very large cliff and I am slowly being guided toward the point where I will either fall or fly. In a few short weeks that time will come. And I am looking back at the smooth, flat surface of the cliff - so safe, so far from the edge - and I can still hear the echoes of my voice over years and years: "Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow I'll get it right."
There is so much I wanted to be, so much I wanted to have accomplished by this point. And I haven't...I haven't. And it's not because I'm not good enough, or smart enough, or pretty enough - it's because of the daunting escape of tomorrow. You should see my tomorrow. It would blow your mind. It is beautiful and inspired and successful. It is kind and generous and faithful. It is bold and fearless and charismatic. It doesn't judge, doesn't hurt, doesn't get angry. It doesn't doubt or hide or stop trying.
But the truth is - tomorrow never comes. It never, ever comes.
Today is really all I have. If I want to be different, look different. If I want to hold Tomorrow in the palm of my hand - I have to seize it, and I have to do it RIGHT NOW. I know this is all very vague and mysterious, and maybe you're wondering what it is - what I want to change, what I wish I got right. And over time I will reveal bits and pieces (and there are a LOT of pieces). But as I sit here tonight thinking over the years, I just thought I should tell someone - that I should declare it in print TODAY. That I am done waiting for tomorrow.
Because tomorrow never comes.
P.S. I love Steven Curtis Chapman - seriously love him - and I'm thinking of a song he wrote, "Still Called Today" from one of his first albums. Somewhere in the recesses of my mind and heart is a leg warmer wearing, big haired, headbanded, neon loving, pleather rocking 80's girl...and sometimes she comes out to play.