Dear Heartland Credit Union,

Your logo says to me, "Come build a Monopoly house on top of a tree where the sun will get it when it consumes the earth in pixels."

No? Not what you were going for?

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Trailblazing,

If you can say one thing about me, it's that I like to do things right. If I'm learning something new, I don't just jump in with both feet; I wade in, slowly, analyzing each step and mentally projecting the future consequences of stepping in this spot instead of that one with each progressive footfall. Once I blaze the trail one time, I'm pretty good at following that same path fearlessly when I come to the same place again, and after a lifetime of blazing well-marked trails, I can appear to outsides to take life pretty confidently.

Until I get to a place that's unfamiliar. Then I have no idea how to proceed, and I'm forced to blaze a new trail. It takes time. It's an agonizing process. I step, I pause, I map out potential next steps, decide how well the previous steps went, how I could or should change or keep going, stop and think, stop and think, step back and reassess. I want to do it right, and without ever seeing this path before, I have no points of reference to get me going. As Sarah Bareilles sang:

I'm already out of foolproof ideas
so don't ask me how to get started.
It's all uncharted.

Uncharted, yes, but not unchartable. And although in this situation there are other people depending on my blazing a fair trail, I think they're patient enough to see where I take it.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Friends,

I don't deserve you. Each day, I wonder what I could have possibly done to earn your friendship, and I can never reach a satisfactory answer. You are supportive, attentive, and in every way wonderful. And you seem to think I deserve your friendship, despite my doubts on that score.

Maybe this is a slight hint of the love we have from Christ. I don't deserve his love, but he really, really wants to give it to me. To all of us. Deep, true love isn't our love for God, but his love for us, sacrificial love with no reason to expect an equal return. He meets us halfway and, when we aren't there, he keeps going the whole way until he reaches us where we are.

Thanks for loving me so much I can start to understand, however slightly, the love of Christ.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Vienna,

Slow down, you crazy child
you're so ambitious for a juvenile
But then if you're so smart, tell me
Why are you still so afraid?

Where's the fire, what's the hurry about?
You'd better cool it off before you burn it out
You've got so much to do and
Only so many hours in a day

But you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize?
Vienna waits for you.

Slow down, you're doing fine
You can't be everything you want to be before your time
Although it's so romantic on the borderline tonight
Tonight

Too bad but it's the life you lead
you're so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need
Though you can see when you're wrong, you know
You can't always see when you're right
You're right.

You've got your passion, you've got your pride
but don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on, but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize?
Vienna waits for you.

Slow down, you crazy child
and take the phone off the hook and disappear for awhile
it's all right, you can afford to lose a day or two
When will you realize?
Vienna waits for you.

And you know that when the truth is told
That you can get what you want or you can just get old
You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through
When will you realize?
Vienna waits for you.

Hugs & kisses,
B

P.S. Thanks, Billy Joel, for getting it so right.

Dear Inbox,

Remember the days when I used to actually respond to email messages? Remember when I compared emails to pounds and helped you lose weight? I was proud of myself then, but things have changed.

As I type, you have 349 messages, with more certain to come. Now, I'm not of the type who leaves all messages ever in the inbox. No, I leave them there because there's something I need to do about them. Like respond. Or put something on my calendar.

I think maybe your state is indicative of a deeper problem.

Lately, I've felt myself ... I'll say getting lazy, although I don't think that's quite it. I'm tired, my dear inbox, tired especially of being on top of things. I've been on top of things all my life, keeping organized homework lists as early as elementary school and writing down all of my extracurricular activities on a calendar so I knew where I had to be when. I remembered things and did everything right and never let the ball drop. I was reliable. It's how I succeeded and looked good and got accepted to every school I applied to.

But now I'm tired of it. I'm tired of fitting myself into others' schedules: public buses, work hours, work projects, and so on. I'm tired of structuring everything so perfectly that even my unstructured time is structured. I'm tired of fitting my life into boxes and slots of calendar pages, email responses, timetables, résumés, and spreadsheets.

I'll get over it. I'll get back on top of things someday. But I have a feeling that as long as you're around, my inbox, I'll always have the pressure of responsibility, of tasks left undone, of falling short of expectations and letting people down.

Maybe it's that I'm playing the part of the career woman I was never meant to be, and the confusion between should and is has muddled other areas of my life as well. But whatever it is, dear inbox, if I abandon you for good someday, know it's not your fault, nor the fault of the people whose kind, loving, and often encouraging words fill you up. It's just that, by then, maybe I'll have grown up enough to accept that it's finally time to run away.

Hugs & kisses,
B

Dear Coffee Shop Patrons,

You there, giggling loudly over board games on a Tuesday morning.  Do you see me?  Nursing three books, my computer, and a sugar-free latte?  Head tucked down, hair falling into my eyes, trying to think?  It's hard work, this thinking.  But you, you laugh about your game and your free schedule and your happy brain sighs in relief.  What then should I do?    

Love,

A

This guest letter brought to you by my dear friend A.