Talking tonight with a friend: A year since a fun night with friends at a little Italian restaurant and church...
A year since I traveled to a rustic campground as part of the music team with a group of fantastic women from my church...
One year since surgery on my wrist...
One more year since a tragedy...
One more year since my wedding...
One year since my divorce...
It stuns me how quickly time passes. It frightens me how quickly a year can pass and how little - in tangible, physical ways - I've moved towards those things I want. And yet I examine all the places I've stopped and what I've experienced during that time. I question these days the value of having a plan, of having routine, or the true value of any-thing I see around me, other than the presence of wonderful people in my life and the quiet, small place of peace in my heart.
One year ago I was wondering where I'd be living today. I had a dog, a house, and a 46-mile commute.
One year ago I knew I'd be in school this semester, set on a new career path.
One year ago I wouldn't have been able to even consider flying to Italy without a life partner, a treasured new love, or a companion at minimum. I was still too ensconced in safety, control, and my long-nurtured fear. It's easy to wish I still was.
(PS If you haven't gotten my prayer request yet, please send your safe-travel prayers for my Sunday departure heavenward...)
One year ago I didn't have several amazing blessings in the form of new and renewed-former friends.
One year ago, I had no rest in who I am.
Can I even wrap my mind around what the next year might bring?
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