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Listen to Jack London and hope the size of a kidney bean by Rachel Joy Welcher MP3 song. Jack London and hope the size of a kidney bean song from Rachel Joy Welcher is available on Audio.com. The duration of song is 04:40. This high-quality MP3 track has 536.192 kbps bitrate and was uploaded on 22 May 2024. Stream and download Jack London and hope the size of a kidney bean by Rachel Joy Welcher for free on Audio.com – your ultimate destination for MP3 music.
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The speaker reflects on their own experiences of failure and perseverance as a writer, emphasizing the importance of trying again. They share the wisdom passed down by their grandparents, who taught them the value of patience, editing, and never giving up. The speaker also mentions the rejection Jack London faced as an author but praises his ability to vividly depict scenes. They then talk about the challenges they faced after their first marriage ended but found hope and love again with their current partner. The speaker mentions the loss of three babies before finally having their daughter, who embodies resilience and a willingness to try again. The speaker ends by revealing their pregnancy and marveling at the simultaneous growth of life within and before them. Jack London and hope, the size of a kidney bean. Dear Hildegard, you are changing so fast. I watch you try to do a thing, fail, and then try again. Whereas before, you would respond by flopping your entire body on the floor to weep, head buried in your hands. This is significant. Many adults struggle to get beyond the fit response when it comes to failure, but you? You are already learning the importance of getting back up, dusting yourself off, and trying again. Trying again will be a big part of your life. I know it has played a significant role in mine. In my work as a writer, there were many years where I went unpublished and simply did the work. I was still learning, experimenting, trying, and failing, and it was years before anyone would take notice. And those years were important. Four books and countless poems and essays in, I'm glad I didn't give up. Your grandparents had a lot to do with that. Your Grandpa Doug would say, always put your best foot forward. I would get sloppy excited about a thing I wrote and want to immediately post it, share it, and be read, but he would caution me to slow down, take the time to edit and rewrite, so that the thing I put out into the world was something I would be proud for anyone to read, including a future publisher. It was hard to put the brakes on, and editing is the less creative side of writing, but I'm so thankful for his wisdom. It has served me well. Your Grandma Janice told me that Jack London, the incredible author of short stories like To Build a Fire and novels like White Fang, received over 650 rejection letters over the course of his career, and get this, he saved every single one. I remember reading his work in high school and marveling over his ability to show me a thing rather than just tell it. For example, instead of telling me it was cold out, he showed me how the man's spit crackled in the air, turning to ice before it hit the ground, or how the previously warm biscuit against his chest turned into a hard, icy rock. The choice to try again isn't always available. Sometimes doors get slammed shut, but when there is a crack of light, I encourage you to push back the dark. There were dark days after my first marriage ended. Sometimes all I could think about was getting a tiny house on your grandparents' property and living a quiet life as a teacher during the day and a writer by night with my books, pillows, and coffee maker. All I wanted was to hide away from the world. Sometimes trying doesn't feel safe. But then your dad showed up. He was confident about us. He knew we would fit, that we would make each other better and even happy. He was trying again, too, and had a bravery I couldn't muster. His kind faithfulness eventually broke through the dark, and I saw him. I saw him, and I knew that he was home. Also, he wrote me beautiful letters doused in his Jay-Z cologne. That didn't hurt. But I had to dust off so many ashes before I could try again for you, dearest. Before you were born, your dad and I lost three babies. You have brothers and sisters in heaven, which is a hard thing to grasp, no matter how old you are. I remember wondering if I really wanted to try again when pain was such a possibility. But the thing is, so was joy. So we tried, and we got you, the sweetest, onrious treasure we could imagine. Recently, when we were playing outside, you lost your balance and fell off your swing. It hurt, and you cried, but before your dad and I could finish dusting the dirt off your back and clothes, you were already scrambling back up the swing. I couldn't believe it. You had just gotten hurt, but you were ready to try again. You knew that pain was possible, but you also knew the joy of flying through the air like a bird. It felt something like that, trying again this time. But now our hope has grown to the size of a kidney bean. While you swing through the air, I point to my stomach and say, You are going to be a big sister. You shake your head no and pat your chest, Dog! For weeks you have insisted that you are not Hildegard, but a dog. We both laugh, and while you fly through the air, imagining yourself with big floppy ears, I watch and think how amazing it is to witness life bloom before you and inside you all at once.
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