My bedroom blinds were sealed tighter than the Pentagon, I was safely snuggled under my blankets, and I secretly wished some kind of catastrophe would happen at work so I didn't have to get up and get ready.
It was that kind of a morning.
I was a single-mother at the time and I had dutifully gotten all three children out the door, fed, and on their way to school. So far, it was a successful morning, except for the fact that I didn't want to move.
Responsibility had taken its toll on my little brain--work, kids, practice, school supplies, work (more), dinner, homework, bills, work (even more), clean the house, school projects, discipline, more bills--you get the idea, it was rough. And I was doing it alone.
I stared at the wall and just cried. I wanted to do nothing, but everything was on my shoulders. If I didn't work, kids didn't eat. If I didn't work, bills didn't get paid.
Still, I laid in bed, procrastinating the start of my day.
The television was on in the background, quietly I could hear the news anchor talking to the CEO of the Arizona Diamondbacks and I used the remote to turn it up. Suddenly, I heard three words--essay, contest, tickets. I sat upright in bed and watched the interview more intently than my dog Arthur behaves when I'm eating ribs in his presence.
In a nutshell, the Arizona Diamondback's organization was holding an essay contest and the winner would receive season tickets to all of the home games! Personally, I'm not much of a sports fan--but I wasn't thinking of myself.
I was thinking of my brother, Eric.
You see, to say Eric was obsessed with baseball (still is, by the way) that would be a massive understatement. And, from the time the announcement came that the Arizona Diamondback's were even going to be a team in Arizona, he has asked every single year for season tickets. Unfortunately, it went unanswered year after year.
Eric was a HUGE help to me while I was a single-mother. He was in college and only twenty at the time, but he often drove the kids to practice for me, helped me when I had a flat tire, picked up the kids from school, took me to lunch--you name it, the kid did it--he was a rock star brother. When other college students are thinking about partying on the weekend, my brother had put me and my children first.
He deserved those tickets.
So, I--full admission here--called into work to let them know I'd be late and I sat and wrote the most lovely essay about why my brother, Eric, deserved those ticket. I clicked submit and I got ready for work.
Months passed and even though I figured I didn't win the tickets, I still wondered who had won them. Then, a few weeks before Christmas, I received a phone call at work--I'd won the contest--or more accurately, Eric won the contest! I couldn't believe it! I screamed and jumped around and my smile was permanently plastered on my face all day.
It was a HUGE surprise! I've won lots of writing contests and won everything from money to free diapers, but THIS was different. This was about a young man who had put his family first and was generously compensated with his coveted Christmas request--Arizona Diamondback Season Tickets (five, front row seats--fyi).
And, it was also about me...procrastinating, kind of.
Rick Reilly's column in ESPN did an awesome write up about me and my brother and my kiddos--I've got it framed at my house. It was printed in their April 2009 publication and online. You can read it, here.
But, I gotta tell you, it was the day I drove through Starbucks before work and the barista said, "Hey! Aren't you that lady who won that essay contest for your brother?"
"Yes," I answered, surprised.
"That was pretty cool, I just read about you this morning in my ESPN Magazine," He said. Then, he handed me my drink, "This ones on me."
As I drove away that morning, with a fresh cup of Starbucks and a full head of dreams, I realized I had lived the cliche we all have heard--When life hands you lemons, make lemonade. I had turned an awful, depressing, and helpless morning a few months earlier into something productive by merely forgetting about myself.
So, if you find yourself in a rut, like me--find your purpose, help someone else, make a difference--you never know what will happen. You might just win season tickets, or, like me, you might win something a little better--a practical life lesson.
By the way, Eric never missed a game.
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