They like me, they really like me...

I am not one to mess with blubbering tearful reactions.  The last time I cried in response to something was when my brother passed away.  It was a time of relief and loss and hurt and....the adjectives could go on and on.  So, when I found myself delving into that silly emotional crevasse of my being, I was surprised and a little taken aback.  You see, I often deceive myself into thinking that rejection is just a part of life.  It is not painful and it really doesn't bother me.  I am used to the subtle approach as well as the flat out "We don't want you!" response. I generally shoot back with a "It's your lose" attitude.  

However, recently, I applied for a grant for a performance club I started at school. The grant would provide materials and supplies to be used with a wonderful bunch of children.  The response to the club, as you can read in my previous posts, was amazing if not extremely overwhelming.  As time passed (three weeks to be specific and a mere week before the reception for the grant winners) I embraced that fact that the grant must have been denied.  No problem.  I quickly searched the web and found Donorchoose.com and submitted yet another glorious plea for money.  

On Friday, a curious little letter arrived in my teacher box in the staff lounge.  It was from the Junior League of Nevada.  

"Oh, you poor people.  You have lost the opportunity to be involved with a lovely group of 157 budding actress, actors, and stagecrafters!" I lied to myself.  

Really, my heart was in the lower portion of my right leg, slowly beating to the song, "All by myself, don't wanna be All by myself."  

I very deliberately sat down in a chair in the lounge, silently told myself, "It's okay.  It really doesn't matter.  You will find another opportunity." 

I took a deep, cleansing breath, and carefully opened the small envelope.  

I began reading the rejection letter.

Dear Educator,

Thank you for your grant request.  We wish you success in your endeavor but we are unable.....

Wait, that is not what is says...

We would like to invite you to a reception in which you will be honored for your commitment to education and to receive your grant award....

Well, blow me over with a feather.  Are you kidding? Tear sprang from the dried, crusty portals of wherever tears come from.  I hadn't felt this much emotion in a decade (I know this because my divorce was final ten years and 1 day ago). 

It was cathartic.  It was mind blowing!  

"We got the grant, we got the grant!" I wanted to shout, running through the school, hugging all children (careful, swine flu!) and teachers: okay not all the teachers! But everyone was in class, teaching!  How rude!

I am still riding on the high of that message, that "We like you, we really like you" message.  It was bigger than just me, so my hopes were bigger than just me.  I am in it for the students so I think my previous disappointment was also wrapped up in the children.  Or else, maybe just maybe, if I look deep enough, I can admit that is is okay to cry at rejection.  Who knew I didn't have 2 inch thick skin like a rhinoceros? I am going to have to think about that one! It might just change my entire outlook and make it a bit more blurry.  You know, tears and all!