My face and neck are a little burned from a long walk with two of my sisters and little Bella yesterday morning. I vowed never to go for a long walk as the sun is beating down that high, that hot, again! I insist that our next walk place very early in the morning. Fortunately, though the Irish in me is prone to burn, the Italian and Greek in me are quick to paint the red into an even, warm tan. It’s Saturday morning, and I’m sitting in bed with my laptop on a little tray, usually used as a breakfast-in-bed tray. M.s. set it up for me, said, “How do you like your new office?” This could work. But I think I’ll move my office outside. Me, my iBook, and a little table outside of Starbucks. Yeah, I can handle that for now.
Monday is my father’s birthday. Tomorrow, Jen and I will join him for church and then we’ll meet up with the rest of the fam for brunch. I had a great time yesterday with Jane and Jen, laughing and talking and walking. Watching my beautiful niece smile and drool. This morning, I am in one of those pensive moods, a sentimental mood, overwhelmed with all the love I have in my life. Overwhelmed with how well I seem to be embracing yet another huge transition, yet another sidestep from one path in my mind to another.
This reminds me of a quote my father once shared with me, I forget where he got it, probably from religious science, “You wanna make God laugh? Tell him your plans.” I am so consumed with my idea of a plan that I find it difficult to let go sometimes. But each time my plan is handed back to me in shreds, I am able to laugh a little at my audacity for assuming that I could tell my own future. I am able to adapt as a new plan is taken off the shelf, dusted off, and given in replacement of the shreds falling through my fingers.
At this point, I KNOW truth. My life is rich with laughter and love, and I am dancing to the music of it.