Disappointment, Reality, and the Healing Power of Love

And the winner is . . . . 

Back in February I entered my book, Becoming Zia in a literary contest put on by the Pacific Northwest Writers Association. I did it as an act of faith in my book and to have the experience.  I had to submit a one page synopsis and the first 27 pages along with a $50 entry fee. In return I was entered into the contest and would have two professional critiques.  I thought that was well worth the entry fee.  Having two professionals read the first couple of chapters and give me some feedback was an exciting prospect.  Winning or even placing in the top eight for my category seemed like a long shot. Seriously.  However, there was still a part of me that had hoped it might happen.  Honestly, I had some fantasies about attending the awards banquet and having them call my name.  “Winner in the memoir category, Zia Poe!” 

But, that’s not going to happen.  Yesterday, an email arrived titled Literary Contest News.  I clicked to open it and there it was.  The long list of finalists.  Eight in each category. I scrolled own the list past Mainstream, Historical, Romance/Women’s Fiction,  Mystery/Thriller, Science Fiction/Fantasy/Paranormal, Young Adult, Middle Grade,  and finally the list of the top eight in Nonfiction/Memoir.   My eyes quickly scanned the list of names.  Mine was not there.  I read the list again, just to make sure I didn’t miss it, but no, it wasn’t there. Damn.  Even though it was not something I really expected to happen, I was still disappointed.  It was the end of a fantasy. It was facing reality. It was over.  Now, all I had left was the critiques.  And as a consolation prize, that wasn’t feeling so good.

I was setting with my granddaughter at her school carnival when I read the email on my iPhone.  She was angry, sad and upset because she hurt her foot on the day of the school carnival and her 9th birthday party. All around us kids were yelling and screaming and running around, playing all kinds of games, having fun. She was stuck sitting at a table and she wasn’t happy about it.  I was keeping her company.  After I read the email I looked at her.  She said to me, “Im sad. I have to sit here while everyone else can play!”  

I responded, “I know sweetie it’s hard. I’m sad too.”  

“Because of my foot?” 

“Yes, and because of the news I just read on my phone.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly interested.

“Remember that book contest I entered?” She nodded. “Well. I just found out I am not one of the finalists.”

Her face changed.  I could see the compassion in her eyes.  There was a transformation, she forgot about her foot and missing out on playing and she said with sincerity that nearly brought me to tears, “I’m so sorry Grammy.” Something inside her, the wiser than her age part, understood what this meant and how important it was to me. And in that instant she was there for me on a level few people have ever been. 

I was moved deeply and suddenly my perspective changed.  I made a pouty face and crossed my arms over my chest in an exaggerated way and said “I’m mad! It’s not fair. I wanted to be a winner!” A smile started to grow on her face and she laughed at me. Then we both laughed.  Sitting there with my sweet granddaughter, who is filled with so much love and compassion brought me back to reality.  Being a finalist in the literary contest was a fantasy, but this was my reality.  And I couldn’t imagine anything better than this moment with her. 

Love heals all wounds.

Big, big love,