Drinking In My Life.

Back to the writing board I come.  I’ve had a lot on my mind lately and this seemed like the appropriate place to try and organize my thoughts.

Life is so good right now.  So good.  So good that I can’t remember the last time it felt this whole.  That’s quite a different perspective than when I started this blog almost four years ago.  It’s nothing short of wild when I stop to contemplate the gift of time.  It’s allowed my heart to mend.  To become new.  To experience grief and failure.  To understand happiness and joy.

I was surprised to hear in yoga today my teacher speak of contentment.  As it’s a word that’s been pressed upon my heart as of late.  Just how content I really am.  I shared with Ted recently through happy tears how I’m really trying to soak in this time of our lives.  Like I know how beautiful and priceless these days are.

Losing Sam and having a few years of deep grief has given me an understanding of how important the present is.  I keep wondering to myself when the goodness will end.  And if it will, how I can sustain the happiness I hold now in my heart.

During my physical practice of yoga I’ve learned to examine my body, see where I hold tension, and let it go.  Do it now as you read.  Where are you clenching your muscles?  Your jaw?  Your shoulders? Your arms? Your stomach? Your legs? Your toes?  Take a deep breathe and let it go.

That release.  That’s what I’m feeling right now.  A new peace that I’m not sure I’ve known before.  And it’s so good, right?

But I understand life ebbs and flows.  Maybe that’s what is making this time so much sweeter.  I shared in an online mom group recently that I was thinking of taking a season off from alcohol.  Not that I don’t love me some wine, beer or the holiday jello shots but I’m feeling called to something else.  It wasn’t until this morning that I could put words to it.

My heart wants to drink in my life.

I don’t want to miss a moment of what’s happening now.  I don’t want to see the world from any other lens.  I really want my life.  

What a gift, friends.

When Sam died, I wasn’t sure I wanted to live.

I know there’s suffering all around me.  And I know I will know it’s intensity again.  That’s life.  None of us are exempt from hard times.  But my life has taught me to hold fast.  It really does get better.  And maybe more beautiful.

I’m entering tomorrow’s Thanksgiving with a grateful heart for the richness of today.