Letters, Quotes, Memory,
& Recipes.
I have been thinking this week about God being the one who prepares us for leaving our mortal bodies behind. It is hard to imagine how we will view our earthly lives once they are past. These days on earth seem so real now, but I think later they will feel like only a dream. I hope I won't forget what it was like to eat a Banana Nut crepe at Tandem or to waterski or to read The Secret Garden to my kids.
The brilliant Nicholas Carr didn't have to go all Robert Frost on me to make me like his writing even more. I just finished Carr's book The Glass Cage, which I read shortly after reading his earlier book The Shallows. Both of the books opened my eyes to technology's influence on the working world and on our souls.
I have been thinking often lately on the smallness of my life, and on the unassuming ways I can touch heaven in spite of my smallness. My life is nothing and everything.
The girls have been asking me lately if they can hold hands with me when it's time to go to heaven. It seems they don't want me to be in heaven without them, but I tell them I will go first and I will wait for them. I tell them they will find me. With moments like this, it's a wonder we are not all walking fonts of tears over the beauty of our bane existence. How can life feel so hard and so heavy, and yet so desired and so dance-worthy at the same time? It is mystery and it is mundane, and it is mine.
I am starting to wind down my year of therapy now, and the investment of time and money has been A+. I have been named a strong woman and I have been given tools to take into my future. I have relational work and heart work ahead of me still, but I have entered sacred space enough to know that this time was planned before the world began. I walked right into the rest of my life the day I walked into Ashley's office.
