It was just the two of us this past weekend. I kept appreciating the calm and focus and missing Charlee intensely–all at once.
We went to New York City, the backdrop to where we first met, first became friends, first fell in love. We walked a thousand miles, I’m pretty sure; my feet hurt and my heart didn’t at all. It was perfect.
At church this morning, I closed my eyes and felt my inner self focus. I thought about all the times I choose to worry instead of hope and I wondered if today might be different. I’d like to do better. I’d like to let go of the things that don’t serve me or others well. I’d like purpose to be driving me, rather than an afterthought. But then I got on the train home to Boston and I snapped at TJ over something dumb involving a bagel, guys, and there it was: proof that I need grace. I apologized and decided to do better all over again.
And now I’m going to bed and tomorrow is Monday and I might need to decide three of four or fifteen different times to do better, but as long as I keep asking for help and keep deciding to do better, then I think it’s okay. Or at least the kind of okay that means you’re not at your destination quite yet, but you’re definitely on the way. And I’ll take that. I’ll be grateful for that.