We'll See

Just over a year ago, Tracy and I laid on our backs in Yountville, staring at the ceiling with thoughts swirling.  Tracy had just accepted my proposal.  We were going to get married.  Married.  We were ecstatic.  This changed everything.  We shared a bottle of wine and called family.  The joy was contagious and overwhelming.  

We tried to sleep.  Because the lead up to the proposal left me exhausted, I crashed.  Because of Tracy being blindsided by my proposal, she couldn't sleep.  We knew there was still so much to do in the next year.  Finish school, the bar exam, plan a wedding, find jobs.  But we felt reassured knowing we were going through it together.  

Last night, we laid on our backs in the same place, staring again at the ceiling wondering how it all happened so fast.  Where did the year go?  Did this all really happen?  

All of it did happen.  We finished law school.  We took the bar exam.  We got married.  We found (temporary) jobs.  It was our year.  The wedding was magical.  The honeymoon was perfect.  The Giants won the World Series.  My skeeball team won the brewskeeball championship.  We've started settling in on our own, in a town that we love.  We seemed invincible.  There was only one more hurdle and we felt confident in our vertical.  

But last night, the rug was pulled out from under us.  This time I was the one who was blindsided.  But instead of a marriage proposal, it was a denial that blindsided me.  

"This applicant was not successful in passing the bar exam," read the screen in bold red letters.  It had to be a mistake.  Maybe I didn't type the numbers in correctly.  I tried again.  ID Number: 5969.  File #: 419897.  "This applicant was not successf...." I couldn't look.  I didn't prepare for this.  Neither did Tracy.  She typed in my numbers just in case.  Same result.  

She then typed in her numbers as I looked over her shoulder.  In bold green letters read, "This applicant was successful in passing the bar exam."  We both cried.  She wanted it to be me.  I wanted it to be her. I felt her success.  She felt my pain. 

The night was equally beautiful and painful. Half of me passed and half of her didn't.  

While I laid awake last night, this fable kept reoccurring in my head:

An old farmer who needs his horse to plow the land and grow crops discovers that his horse has disappeared. His neighbors lament for him, “Oh how terrible. You will have such hardship.” The old farmer looked at them and simply said, “We’ll see.” 

The horse returned with a mare and all the neighbors said, “Oh how lucky you are. You now have two horses.” The farmer contemplated and said, “We’ll see.” 

The farmer’s son rode the feisty, new mare, fell off and broke his leg. “Oh how dreadful,” the neighbors said. “You’ll lose a hand to work the land.” Again the farmer shrugged and said, “We’ll see.” 

Finally some soldiers came to the farmer’s house looking for army recruits. When they saw the son’s broken leg, they let him be.

There's still so much to grapple with.  I'm not sure what it all means.  I'm not sure if this a sign that this is not my calling, that maybe I'm supposed to do something else.  Maybe one attorney in the family is plenty.  Who knows.  Tracy always did better than me in law school.  I had to fight tooth and nail just to stay afloat in law school.  It was never easy.  

Or maybe it means something entirely different. Maybe it means that I am supposed to be a lawyer, but one who's had to take a winding path.  Maybe I just have to dust myself off and keep fighting...

We'll see.  

I don't have to figure that out right now.  For now, I am continually reminded of how much there is to be grateful for.  Health, family, friends, my wife, free legal representation.  In the end, I'm confident that this is something I'll be grateful for.  I'm just not sure when, how, or why that will be.

We'll see.  

It rained all night.  But when I woke up around 10 after a fitful night of sleep, there was a break in the rain.  Tracy and I threw on our running clothes and ran through the vineyards of Yountville.  The clouds were moving quickly and the sun fought to break through.  As we ran, we talked and talked and talked.  When we got to the end of the run before we loop back, we started to feel a sense of peace and acceptance.  We walked and caught our breath.  Tracy grabbed my arm and stopped.  She pointed to the left, above the vineyards and just before the foothills.  We had never seen a more perfect rainbow.  Vibrant colors and a perfect shape.  We could see both the beginning and the end of it.  What does it mean?

We'll see.