Today, while John Paul took an unusually long afternoon nap, I went on a vacation. That is, in my backyard.
I set up the baby monitor on the patio, and with the sound of my sweet boy’s steady breathing in the background, I sat in a rocking chair and drank a glass of wine.
I subdued my desire to either check email on my phone, call a friend, get up and clean the house, or run to the front door to see what the mailman had brought. I merely sat and sipped.
And in the stillness, I could feel myself becoming more relaxed and more content. Sitting there, a smile on my face, squinting at the bright sun, I could almost pretend I was back in Colorado – before the sorrow of moving, before the loneliness of unexplained pain, and before the trauma of cancer.
But then, I suddenly realized that my heart no longer yearns to return to that time, to the life I had two years ago. It’s not where I’m supposed to be, and that girl isn’t who I am anymore. I am stronger. I am wiser. I am more grateful. I am more faithful. I am a mother.
My smile grew wider and I laughed out loud because suddenly, I felt it: the slow melting of the frost that has accumulated on my heart. And I just know, even greater joy is coming.
How might you savor the moment today so that you too might feel the joy of merely being alive?
Happy weekend, everyone.