Risky Business III :: My Man Amos

This is the end.  Of January, you know.  It's also the end of the month during which Amy L. Sullivan 1 (It's a nickname, that I like to call her sometimes.  It's also her website.  amylsullivan1.com.  She's a super gal.) challenged us to risk getting rejected.

And we did.  In so many ways.  Large ways, small ways, they all opened us up to rejection.  And that was the real point.  To willingly do something that might end with each of us getting rejected.  In order to do big things.  And to get rejected.  So that we could find out that rejection is not the end-all, the worst thing ever.

It is likely cheesy, but I often think about Thomas Edison, and how he failed so. many. times. when working on the lightbulb.  And the telegraph.  and the other 1,409 (I made up that number, but it's actually 1,093 which makes my number not that much of an exaggeration) things that he invented.  Which makes him sound wildly successful.  But no.  I mean, yes, but only after he failed and failed and failed again.  And when asked about it, he gave a famous quote "I haven't failed.  I've only found 10,000 ways that don't work."  Or another one that I recently found is "Our greatest weakness lies in giving up.  The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time."  

This man, he knew about failure.  About rejection.  About trying and giving his everything and it not being enough.  And yet he didn't give up, he kept putting himself out there.  And thus (which is how my phone often corrects the word "this", which is annoying, but in this case I mean it) I plan to keep putting myself out there, to keep risking rejection.  To keep trying something even if I don't know will work. 

So for my final risk, I went big.  Because going big is the only option if you decide not to stay home.

I sponsored.   

EEK!

You can do it too!
Here's a link.
It's $38/month.
Less than $10/week.
Think about it, at least.

There's a couple of bloggers that I follow, and they've been in Uganda with Compassion International for the past few days.  And oh, my!  The stories.  The faces.  I've been following along every time bloggers went with Compassion.  I've wanted to do this for a long time, but I've been scared.  Scared I'd let some kid down.  But I've been watching our budget, thanks to Mint.com, and I see we've lately had the room.  And I am feeling risky.  So I went ahead and pulled the plug and did it.

His name is Amos.

He's 3.

Just.  

His birthday is December 30, and he's got the chubbiest second chubbiest cheeks I've ever seen.  I'd show you a picture, but I forgot my Compassion user name already.  But not Amos's.  I'm not forgetting his name.  I've already written him a letter, which I'm assuming his parents will read to him.  Because he's 3.  And he won't be 4 until next December 30, on which date I'm planning on sending him a birthday card.  I'm a little excited, in case you can't tell.

It feels big.  And like it could fall apart on me.  I still have to tell Handsome.  Whoops!  It's not a huge deal, because it's my spending budget and I'll do what I want.  Plus, he's a big softie, and once he sees those cheeks, he's a goner.  I'm not keeping it a secret, it's just he's working and we have pretty much the worst communication of any successfully married couple, so I'll tell him when he's home in a day or two.  Perhaps I'll spin it that Riley finally got that older brother (of sorts) that Handsome always wished she had.

<Note: I wrote this last night, but told Handsome when he came home this morning.  At first, he confused it with Kiva, which I also love.  Then he made snide comments about them stealing our money and only feeding the children when bloggers come to town.  When he says awful things, that's how I know he thinks its a fine idea, and that he agrees.  Like when I ask him if he's happy being married and he sighs and says "Not like I really have any choice now..." and I know we're good.  Its a complicated language, the one that he speaks.  But anyhow, I asssured him that Compassion is completely legit, that they do fabulous work, and that we can make a serious difference for Amos.  So no more secrets, in case you were worried.  Except where I hide the cookies.  That, I'm never telling him.>

I've leaped (leapt?) already.  And Amos is ours.  And it is my plan that he stays that way for ever and ever.

I'm going big.

<3 M.