Book Club Blessing

Total Mushy Dorkball Warning.

As I sat at the table of 14 wonderful people at a dinner party last week I was in awe.

Awe of me. If I can risk boldness, self-love, pride, conceit -whatever you might think of a woman who is starting to expand her own realm of influence and concept of power.

I waited for many years to be invited into a really awesome book club of interesting women.

One day it occurred to me that I might actually wait my whole life and never, ever get that invitation. It was a sad thought. Completely unacceptable.
I was praying for it, when it occurred to me, “someone has to start something like that.”

If I wanted it, it stands to reason other women wanted it too. But, rejection is risky. It’s painful too. Especially if you’re an “other.” I’m the “other,” (in case, you hadn’t noticed).

I realized I wanted it bad enough to take the risk. I started inviting women to come to my book club. I was rejected over and over and over.

At one point I sat alone in a coffee shop for 45 minutes thinking okay, so there is no way in which this doesn’t suck. Then I saw two women get out of the car to meet me. Relief.

In under a year I’ve created a really, really awe-inspiring book club. Something warm and beautiful and fulfilling. Where my friendships were once barren and lacking of appreciation and respect for who I am, I now get to have Rachel Ray quality dinner parties with people who might not think exactly like me, but they do appreciate what I’m about.

At our first invite-the-spouses dinner party I looked around the table and realized that I was so glad about every single person there. Those who rejected my invitation wouldn’t have fit with the group in the right ways.

The women who said yes and showed up brought something completely unique and special to the group.

During the invitation process, I frequently heard a prompting in my ear or head that said, “announce the book club” and I had to take a deep breath and muster all my courage and step out of my comfort zone to do it.

As I find my own power, step out and risk more rejection and failure in attempts to get what I truly want, I’m getting more comfortable being me. As I do that, I am experiencing more joy and love. The joy, love and connection is making me more prone to weeping.

The party was the best party I’ve ever been too. The hostess, Cindy, set a table worthy of Martha Stewart. The women were smart and strong and warm and funny. The men were charming and gracious.

I didn’t know I could do that.