Archive for the ‘Shifts’ Category

I have always, essentially, been waiting. Waiting to become something else, waiting to be that person I always thought I was on the verge of becoming, waiting for that life I thought I would have. In my head, I was always one step away. In high school, I was biding my time until I could become the college version of myself, the one my mind could see so clearly. In college, the post-college “adult” person was always looming in front of me, smarter, stronger, more organized. Then the married person, then the person I’d become when we have kids. For twenty years, literally, I have waited to become the thin version of myself, because that’s when life will really begin.

And through all that waiting, here I am. My life is passing, day by day, and I am waiting for it to start. I am waiting for that time, that person, that event when my life will finally begin.

I love movies about “The Big Moment” – the game or the performance or the wedding day or the record deal, the stories that split time with that key event, and everything is reframed, before it and after it, because it has changed everything. I have always wanted this movie-worthy event, something that will change everything and grab me out of this waiting game into the whirlwind in front of me. I cry and cry at these movies, because I am still waiting for my own big moment. I had visions of life as an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced, but all I was doing was going to work and coming home, and that wasn’t what it looked like in the movies.

John Lennon once said, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.” For me, life is what was happening while I was busy waiting for my big moment. I was ready for it and believed that the rest of my life would fade into the background, and that my big moment would carry me through life like a lifeboat.

The Big Moment, unfortunately, is an urban myth. Some people have them, in a sense, when they win the Heisman or become the next American Idol. But even that football player or that singer is living a life made up of more than that one moment. Life is a collection of a million, billion moments, tiny little moments and choices, like a handful of luminous, glowing pearls. It takes so much time, and so much work, and those beads and moments are so small, and so much less fabulous and dramatic than the movies.

But this is what I’m finding, in glimpses and flashes: this is it. This is it, in the best possible way. That thing I’m waiting for, that adventure, that move-score-worthy experience unfolding gracefully. This is it. Normal, daily life ticking by on our streets and sidewalks, in our houses and apartments, in our beds and at our dinner tables, in our dreams and prayers and fights and secrets – this pedestrian life is the most precious thing any of use will ever experience.

Shauna Niequist, Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life

 So what are you waiting for?

What small choices are you making today that will bring you closer to stepping into the fullness of you, of your life, of the life that you are already living and is waiting for you to claim it?

We spend so much time somewhere else, in comparisons, in expectations (of ourselves and others) that sometimes we whittle away our lives not truly ever having lived.  We become to busy trying to fit someone else’s life or someone else’s expectations, listing to someone else’s voices telling us how we should live our life.

What pearls (with your name on them) are waiting to be cultivated?

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The above graphic is from Kristin Noelle.  Her site Trust Tending sends out these beautiful little Trust Notes each week and they are simply delightful.  She has all sorts of other great free and wonderful things you can sign up for as well.

About two months ago for a variety of reasons I decided to get rid of TV (note that I did wait until after football season was over).   Everyone has their vice right?  But for me it went back to looking more closely at my life and living more intentionally.  Although I didn’t watch a whole lot of tv I would find myself turning it on and watching things that after an hour I wondered… did I really need to know which flat they chose in London, or what the final outcome of the Extreme Makeover was?  And all watching the Food Network all it would do is make me hungry… and I wasn’t working on things that were truly feeding me.  Right now I am focusing on saving money, on putting my time and energy into things that deserve them and I realized TV didn’t fit for me anymore.  After getting sick and not turning it on for a few days I decide to take the plunge and I decided to make it into a fun experiment and get rid of TV, at least for the summer.

Giving up TV for the first week or so was a bit tough because it is so instinctual to come in the house and turn it on, “catch up” on the day and what I missed.  But I realize that with all of the access to news online and listening to NPR I am still up to date with current events.  I also worried about whether or not I would have something to talk about with certain people if we didn’t share our stories of the most recent episode of X show… but I am realizing that we are having better conversations about ourselves rather than some other stranger’s life.

Sometimes there is an echoey silence when there isn’t radio or TV on to fill it.  So it started me thinking about silence, and what would happen if I truly befriended silence, and thus the 40 Days of Silence  was born.

I have been reading and writing more, I have been listening to more music, I have been getting more restful sleep, I have been working out more, I have been praying and meditating more, I have been outside more, I have enjoyed my silence more, and one of the unexpected benefits is that I am more content.  When I do go online to watch my shows that I watch I do so intentionally, with the purpose of enjoying them, not as a default setting or as filler.

What has brought me the most peace is not having the constant underlying reminders of what I “need”, what I “can’t live without” and how I don’t “measure up” – the empty promises IF I got this certain product or service my life would be amazing.  The average American consumes over 3,000 ads per day, between radio, TV, billboards, newspapers, online etc. and it seeps into our subconscious coloring our opinions of ourselves and our lives.

Another unexpected benefit is that I have been having some great conversations as a result of this little experiment.  Turns out several of my friends have done this at the same time without really talking about it, and I have yet to find one that wishes they had it back.   It also has created some great conversation about what role the TV plays in our lives.  And for many it isn’t about cutting it out completely so much as it is being more mindful about it, for many it isn’t something they want to consider but the talk of an experiment to change something inspires them to think of some other experiment they have been toying with but haven’t yet done.

What experiment would push your comfort zone?  What kind of experiment could create more space for you to follow your dreams, to invite more fun and joy into your life, to create deeper relationships?  What kind of experiment could get you out of your rut and into your radiant life?


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I had the privilege yesterday of speaking to a Loss of Spouse Support group.  I read them a few excerpts from The In-Between and then we talked about the various stages and places they were at, where they have been and will be.

For several in the group it had been about a year, some a little more, but for two it had only been a few months.  When I got done reading I had asked the group “What does your In-Between look like?”  A woman who had just lost her husband a few months ago said, “I think I have the wrong answer.  I don’t think I am in an In-Between…”  Her voice cracked as she continued, “I am not even there yet.”  She clasped her husband’s wedding ring in her hand that now resides on a slender chain around her neck and I could see her clinging to the slim hope that it won’t hurt like this forever.

Tears sprang to my eyes as I thought how often we think we have the “wrong” answer.  How often we are stuck in the thought that we should be anywhere else but where we are.  How often we think that we are handling our grief, our children, our jobs, our friendships in the “wrong” way.  And sometimes yes, things need to change, but more often than not it is only because we haven’t given ourselves the compassion and more objective look that we give to others.

No one in that group thought she should be anywhere but where she was, and it struck me to see how everyone was literally leaning forward with compassion, their hearts scooping her up to hold her in love and this tender place of knowing.  Sometimes we need that mirror for ourselves.  To remind ourselves that we are doing the best we can with what we have, with what we know, and that is enough.

And as I looked to the eyes around the room I silently prayed that they would hold themselves gently as they grieve, to remember that it will take longer than they want it to, to know they are held in love as they go through this difficult time.  And tonight I came across this poem by one of my favorite authors that speaks so eloquently to the In-Between time and is the prayer I extend to all those who need to hear these words:

A Blessing for One Who is Exhausted

By John O’Donohue

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

The light in the mind becomes dim.
Things you could take in your stride before
Now become laborsome events of will.

Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.

You have been forced to enter empty time.
The desire that drove you has relinquished.
There is nothing else to do now but rest
And patiently learn to receive the self
You have forsaken for the race of days.

At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have traveled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of color
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

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Northern Minnesota


I have been following my own advice and making time and space to find silence lately, some days five minutes comes easily, and then some days finding myself rushing until the moment I lay down at night only to realize that I never took that time to be silent and still.

I have found silence in various places lately.  Last week I spent one of my 5 minutes with my nephew after putting him to bed, sitting in the chair in his room sharing the sacred space before a little one goes to sleep just listening to him breathe in and out.

This weekend I went on an adventure to Northern Minnesota where silence was woven through the weekend.  Snowshoeing as the snow gently fell walking in silence on freshly fallen snow.  The sounds of the forest muted by the 10 inches of fresh snow they had gotten a few days before and stillness emanating from every tree and rock.  Sitting by a fire in silence with a friend, a glass of wine and no internet, no cell phone reception, watching the waves and listening to the lake.

It reminded me that by giving myself silence, by taking the time to soak it all in things sort themselves out, so often I fall into the habit of fixing everything now, going faster, doing bigger, better things- and so often it is in the silence that reminds me that this moment is enough just as it is.

And as will almost always happen, when I step into stillness, when I offer myself the time to stop, to get off the hamster wheel I emerge refreshed and ready to reengage, recommitting to my promise to myself to live my life from a more authentic, clear, and centered place.

I found this quote upon my return and smiled as I thought about the wisdom of the Lake and all that it had shared with me this weekend.

Wash the dust from your soul and heart with wisdom’s water.


After sitting, centering, being silent I found that my words were tumbling forth… and this is part of a response to a journal prompt my friend had given me:

As I listen to the lake

As I listen to the lake it reminds me that it is a big, vast lake, filled with so many individual droplets of water, yet all are integral to the whole… there are water droplets who revel in splashing against the rocks, who love the idea of jumping onto the shore, and other drops of water who prefer to be in the still, depth and center of the lake… there are yet others who want to glide on the top, gently swaying and rocking, and other drops who want to travel a long ways- distance is their goal, and others who long to stay as close to their home as possible… and all ways lead to the beauty, reflect the who of the lake… the lake is all of them and none of them… the lake simply is… this ancient stillness, this watery heartbeat of the waves… in and out… pulled by the moon, warmed by the sun…

As I listen to the lake it reminds me that there are so many worlds yet to explore, there is so much left to uncover, unearth…

I have only just begun.

Indeed, I have been struggling with a few things lately that have taken a toll on my soul, and my healing has been found in this silence.  This silence has held me in the midst of so much grace, in so much love, in so much compassion.  The silence has helped heal old wounds, it has given me strength to support others as they navigate difficult times, it has given me strength to make brave choices, it has reminded me of my power and my voice and it has reminded me to move with more intention in my life.

In the silence I have heard the voice of love remind me that the story is not over yet, there is so much of my life yet to be written.

In so many ways I have only just begun.

Sitting with silence has brought me so many gifts and I am looking forward to hearing if any of you are experiencing the same…

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Learn to pause… or nothing worthwhile will catch up with you.

Doug King

Since I had pretty much four days to do not a whole lot but sleep and think, I had been thinking a lot about stopping, about surrendering.   About listening to the voice that won’t yell, that won’t clamor above the noise to be heard, the voice that requires your full attention before sharing it’s wisdom with you.

This is the voice that speaks to me when I write deeply from the heart, the voice that always speaks with love and compassion, but can also share truth that sometimes stings a little.  This is the voice that won’t play games, that won’t appear on demand when I have five minutes, nor will it disappear no matter how long I refuse to make time for it.  It is the voice that helps to balance me, that reminds me to enjoy my life, to drink deeply of each experience, the voice that helps keep me connected to me.

And I realize I haven’t been doing a good job of making time for my inner voice of wisdom lately.

I have been doing a great job of living a life I love, of balancing a lot of competing demands, of being a lot of things to a lot of people- but not carving out specific time to listen to that inner voice of wisdom.  This is one of the dangers of a life that is full… full of events, activities, people, places and things… most of which are chosen well, but I had some time to think through what it is that I want.  Is my work/life balance working, is my self-care working, is my time with friends and family enough, is my writing time/alone time enough.  What is it that I really want and need in my life right now… at least for the next six months.

“The key is not to prioritize what’s on your schedule, but to schedule your priorities.” Stephen R. Covey

One of the best lessons I have learned from my friends who are parents of young children is the constant reminder that the children that you are dealing with today will not be the children you have a week from now, a month from now.  Every day they grow and change, their needs change, their ability to handle life changes, their very beings mold and adapt each day.  And sometimes before a big growth spurt they will momentarily regress to gather themselves to propel to their next developmental stage.  Somehow I had forgotten that as adults we do the same.  Life changes, seasons change, our self-care and priorities need to change with them as well.  And it is good to revisit what is working, what isn’t working and make small adjustments.

As I move towards living my life with more intention, with the goal of becoming the best Erica I can be I am realizing that incremental change isn’t as sexy as declaring that I shall eat nothing but grapefruit and chant 100 prayers a day and do yoga for 30 days straight, but it does certainly get me better results and for me it sticks.

I had wanted to eat better, to incorporate more fruits and veggies, and since watching Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead to use a juicer on a regular basis- I have started to do that because my intention was simple to get at least 5 more servings of fruit a week.  Incremental change, and it has made a difference.

After having a great call with my coach tonight and talking about some of bits and pieces that my inner voice of wisdom has shared since I was forced/made time to listen (because as a good friend pointed out, regardless I was going to be sick, but it didn’t mean I had to learn anything, I made that choice, to be present for the lessons that were unfolding).  I realized that I want more of that in my life.  So instead of the radical change that I would have wanted in the past… perhaps 7 days of silence in a monastery somewhere in Nepal that would have never happened because it would require a passport and vaccinations and tickets and… and… instead, I am taking the incremental change route.

40 Days of Silence.

I am committing to 40 Days of Silence.

And the incremental roll out of that will be that for the next 40 days I will make a conscious choice to carve out five minutes of my day to be silent.  And my coach had asked a great clarifying question “What is your definition of silence?”  And I realized that for me I wanted it to incorporate a few different pieces…

One is that it is without any obvious distractions, but more importantly that it be without “productive thought”.  So often when I sit with the intention of being silent I am trying to figure out what I should write next, or what goal I am working towards, or thinking about wow, it is quiet maybe I should turn on the radio/tv, check Facebook, anything but just savoring this peaceful moment.  So to have it be about savoring the moment as is, whatever that may be.

Two is that I want it to have some element of the natural world.  Living in Minnesota watching the snow fall softly is one of my favorite afternoon activities, but we haven’t had a whole lot this year, and I haven’t made time to enjoy it.  Watching the branches and leaves sway, watching the clouds float by, appreciating the sun on my face when I get a chance to be outside during the day, all of these invite that spacious silence that I am seeking.

Three is sitting in the lap of love.  I have a friend that calls her prayer time lap time.  And whenever I am anxious, frustrated or have wound myself tightly about something that I usually have little control over she will remind me “Have you had your lap time?”.  Taking the time to curl up in the lap of God and enjoy letting go of control, allowing yourself to simply feel completely and utterly loved.

Four is sometimes it will mean more of a moving meditation.  Quietly walking, or stretching, or something else that my body is called to do.

So I know myself well enough to know that I have to have enough structure to make sense, but not enough that it feels claustrophobic.  So how will I know?  I will know it is that time because when I walk away I will feel connected and restored.  I will feel like slowing down.  I will feel like I have just had a tall glass of cool water.

So I am sure that I will share more about my 40 Days of Silence, but I invite you to consider, what is it that you would like more of in your life?  What would you like to focus on for 40 Days?

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“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next.

Delicious Ambiguity.”

~ Gilda Radner


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Something to remember for the New Year!!

It is the New Year… time for many to take stock of where they are, where they want to be and make resolutions.  I have a love hate relationship with resolutions and so I don’t do them in the traditional way… but of course I love the opportunity to be able to think about what I want the next year to look like, how I want to shape my part of it, what I want to leave open to God/the Universe/Mystery/Chance, and what I just don’t even know is possible yet.

So instead of New Year’s Resolutions I decided to make a list of what I want more of and what I want less of:


Comparing- myself or my life (which is in process) to a static idea of what I “should” be, to my own projection or anyone else’s

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”
~ Steve Jobs


Saying yes from obligation

Saying no from fear


Feeling responsible for others

Being anyone but me


Live Music

Being around people doing what they love

Lightness of being




Looking through the eyes of love

Letting go


Working out

Laughing so hard my stomach and cheeks hurt the next day

Warrior Dash Days





Enjoying the moment- and being there with no guilt, simply joy and an acute awareness of the blessings that surround me

Letters- sending and receiving

Writing the Brave Letters- (more soon on that :))

Writing- books, poetry, letters, prayers, journal entries- JUST WRITE

Losing myself in beauty

Being outdoors

Remembering the truth of this statement and choosing the company of joy-

There’s only one address anyone lives at and it’s always a duplex: Joy and pain always co-habit every season of life.

Accept them both and keep company with the joy while the pain does it’s necessary renovations. 

~ Ann Voskamp


Making space




Sweat- loving the feeling at the end of a workout of muscles that have been pushed to their limit

Pride in the life that I have created

Letting love in

Capturing beauty

Taking time to celebrate all that I have done

Taking time to think about all that I want to do

Investing in myself, in my dreams, in my own life

Clearing out

Asking for help when needed- giving help when the opportunity presents itself

Glowing- with health, with love, with peace and contentment

Creating- being in the flow

Feeling good in my own skin

Deepening into me


Continuing to be a part of something bigger

Moments where I am so entranced by what I am doing that I forget where I am, what time it is, or what I “need” to do

Creating community

Helping bring out the light in others

Letting my own light shine

Celebrating all of the gifts that surround me every day

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“The deeper your scars, the more room there is to fill them up with love.  Don’t hate your scars, appreciate their depth.”

—Daniel Chidiac

 At times these quotes can be very comforting, and at times they can rub just the wrong way… feeling frustrated that we have scars, angry that they are so deep, hurt that something so large happened to us… And that is how it is when we are deep in healing work, comfort often comes cloaked in many disguises and sometimes changes costumes mid-play.

Since my recent post about the dilemma of “Merry” Christmas I have been reminded of what an incredible gift permission is.  We don’t allow ourselves often in this culture the permission to be where we are at… we spend so much of our time looking backwards pining for what was, feeling the loss so deeply, wanting to “fix” whatever is broken, or we spend time fantasizing of what “could” be, what we want and punishing ourselves for not being there yet…

What if instead we allowed ourselves permission to be where we are at?

Sometimes that means handling things with grace, poise and composed, and sometimes that means handling things no better than a toddler having a tantrum in the middle of the mall.

Sometimes things will bring comfort that didn’t before, and as your healing takes root, as you move forward the things that used to comfort may not, and you may be looking for a new perspective, a new way of looking at things, a new way of feeling about them.  Your experience may shift from pain into a gift, a new perspective may help you reframe things.  Sometimes you recoil against anything else changing, anything else shifting, it is enough just to walk upright in the world.

I give you permission to handle your life with grace and poise, and I give you permission to have a loud, ugly, tearful temper tantrum that leaves you feeling exhausted but refreshed.

I give you permission to not know what the next step, but the assurance that there will be a next step laid out for you.

I give you permission to be where you are at, and to promise that you won’t be there forever.

I give you permission to stop, to stay in this wave of grief until it subsides.

I give you permission to ride this wave of joy, to feel to the tips of your toes the sheer delight of the first genuine smile as your heart thaws and you feel yourself coming back to life.

I give you permission to feel the hurt, the pain, but also the promise and possibility of the life that will beckon you towards love.

I give you permission to allow the totality of you, with an invitation to travel your own journey in your time, in your way, with the support of all those who love you by your side.

You have permission to be you.

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There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen

I was reading through something I had written a year ago and was struck by the clarity, the depth, and the authenticity of it.

At the time I didn’t feel clear at all.  The words just fell onto the page and I just left them, too tired to “fix” them so they were “pretty and sparkly” (aka- perfect).  I have been reminded recently that the more I try to control things, to rearrange them to fit what I “think” they should be- the more frustrated, overwhelmed and overstimulated I get- and the less clear things are.

It reminded me too, that if we allow ourselves the space and the safety to be brave, to be honest, to be open we often have the wisdom within us to find that next step.  Even when we are swirling in the midst of chaos, if we are able to breathe deeply and tap into the core of our being, the Divine spark within us that knows that where we are is where we need to be will guide us there, one step at a time.

I am slowly remembering (again) to release my death grip on control and perfectionism and see the beauty in the process, in the midst of the In-Between.

So to my heart I vow:

I am no longer waiting to see the beauty until it is all cleaned up and sanitized accordingly- but instead see the beauty in the midst of the pain seeking the raw power of a vulnerable heart.

I am trusting in the process to be the important part, not the moment where you survey your work at the end of your life, instead the living the depth of it in the midst of it.

I am willing to believe that we can become strong in the broken places- and that light shines through in the cracks of our foundations and THAT can be beautiful.

I can give myself the same grace and forgiveness that I offer to others, and to surround myself with people who remind me when I forget.

To let these words apply to me too, not just everyone else:

We’re all stumbling towards the light with varying degrees of grace at any given moment.

Bo Lozoff

To remember even the process is beautiful.

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My writing voice has been silent.

For the past four years I wrote nearly every day, and then recently I just stopped… the words stopped, I stopped coming to the page, I stopped letting that little voice dictate my waking moments… and yet, deep down I knew that was what I needed to do.  To just live in this moment, to not have to capture all of the details, but to let the magic, the moments that have taken my breath away, the moments of pure joy and of excitement just bubble up.  To have trust that in time I would come back to the page, that the words would bubble over, that I would again have something to say, to share.  To trust that the words, the blogs and the books that I know are waiting will find their way- in time (which often isn’t the same as my time).

And it is busy, living my life, sending out books, responding to the heartfelt mail, e-mails and phone calls, building new relationships that this book is helping me to create and re-envisioning my priorities, my time, my relationships.  It is a time of transition for me, of jumping into this new piece of me, of owning my writing voice, of sharing my gifts in a new way.

When I was transitioning from high school to college my best friend gave me a card with this quote from Rilke on it, words that I have went back to time and time again:

…I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don’t search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903
in Letters to a Young Poet

Transition is all about living your way into the answer.  For so long I had struggled with my purpose, I always knew Social Work was a piece of it, but it wasn’t everything, there was other things that were missing. And as I filled my life with other amazing pieces and experiences I would always think, yes this is a piece but it isn’t it- so I kept collecting.  Then last week I was invited by a friend (who is now a professor at our alma mater) to speak to a Social Work Policy class about my life, about my adventures in social work and the policy realm and where life has taken me since Nora and I sat in that very same class dreaming about “someday”.  “Someday” I’ll have stories like the professors have, “someday” I will have made a difference in someone’s life, “someday” I will be able to find and live out my purpose, “someday” I will move from learning about life to living it.

I was able to talk to the students about how one thing led to another, and what I had learned from the previous place I had woven into the new place, and somehow it all knit itself into this tapestry I call my life, where you can’t pull one thread without feeling the effects of all the others… the leadership I learned in Youth In Government, the respect for my body and healthy competition I learned playing high school sports, the love for learning that so many teachers instilled in me as I made my way through school, the love of friends and family that held me close in the midst of life’s twists and turns.  And it occurred to me that as a combination of decisions, of taking advantage of the opportunities that others provided me, some that I created through my own hard work and determination, and some pieces that were nothing short of Divine Intervention- I now had interesting stories, I helped create and implement policy, I have held people’s hands in the middle of the night as they face their darkest hour, I have published a book, I have a loving network of support and so many other things that I had dreamed about “someday” having and being.

And as I was talking about speaking to the class with another friend she just stopped me, sighed and said “let’s celebrate that you are living your ‘someday'”.

So today I invite you to take a moment, to sit, to celebrate your someday moments.  To be at peace that there will always be something you are living into the answers around, to enjoy the fact that as soon as you celebrate ‘someday’ it creates a place for new ‘somedays’ to be created.  So today, celebrate your ‘someday’.  And if today you are deep in the midst of muck may you “have patience with everything unresolved in your heart.”  And may you know you are well on your way to living into the answers themselves.

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