No one escapes it, as far as I can tell. Which does little to dull the sting. Rejection comes with the territory of being alive on this planet. In some cases it is not personal, like when John was unable to donate blood because he was using a particular medication. Other times it is simply a matter of numbers. When a job opening attracts hundreds of applicants there will inevitably be hundreds minus one who are disappointed. 

 

I saw an article about a woman defending her doctoral dissertation who crafted a skirt from the rejection letters she had accrued along the way. She wore them tied together with red ribbon and tulle, in a garment that would only be worn once. Standing up. They chronicled the nos she had landed in her quest for a PhD program, scholarships, and publication. As a costumer, I am intrigued by her creativity. She printed out letters that included the words "unfortunately" and "regret" from her emails, and held them in her hands. She faced the rebuffs for what they were... forks in the road. Instead of going one way, she went another. Wearing them as a garment while she addressed the five professors who held the power to grant her a graduate degree gave tribute to the obstacles she had overcome in arriving where she stood. 

 

I like that. 

 

Perhaps I could gather the rejections I fielded in an effort to get our music, or my writing published. But the reality is, I never tried that hard. Oh I sent a handwritten letter to John Michael Talbot, and a recording to the creators of the movie Fireproof. I had heard they were producing a film called Courageous, and felt certain that John's piece Arise! would be the perfect theme song. I submitted stories to Chicken Soup for the Soul, and even had a couple accepted, but that's as far as it went. 

 

Still such dismissals have limited reach. They cannot stop me from picking up the guitar and singing for joy in church. Editors in another state can't forbid me from word smithing during the early hours of morning in my favorite chair. 

 

Plus the sentiment that comes over me when a door slams, reminds me that being excluded is not necessarily an indication of failure. 

 

"He was despised, rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." Isaiah 53

 

Which is a line I set to music and can sing whenever I choose.