“Joy comes to us in moments – ordinary moments. We risk missing out on joy when we get too busy chasing down the extraordinary.”
~ Brene Brown
I turned 38 years old today. At 10:30 pm, after a long day of work, school, band practice, and everything else in between, these humans arrived at my door unexpectedly with flowers, a cake, a card, and most importantly, their love.
One of my favorite show tunes, Seasons of Love from the musical RENT asks and answers, “How do you measure a year in a life? Measure in love.” Exactly one year ago, we all settled in together under the same roof while Edward and I awaited closing and renovation on our new home which was less than a quarter mile away. I don’t think it’s at all coincidental that my birthday aligned with the day that this new chapter of our lives began. It will always be a day to remember new life, new beginning, new possibilities.
The “ordinary moments” of this year have been filled with extraordinary amounts of love. So much so that I’ve rarely attempted to truly share what this experience has been like for me because doing so feels so incredibly vulnerable. Love has snuck up in ways I didn’t anticipate it, at times leaving me speechless and choking back tears of gratitude in less than convenient moments! Love has come in the nooks and crannies of carved out time for a cup of coffee in the morning or late night catch-up and glass of wine after a long day of work. It’s come in tea time and homework help, in the rare movie night, in special deliveries of treats and thoughtful presents, in living room yoga practices, in weekend dinners, dance-offs, and singalongs. Love has come in Donkey Kong marathons, guitar jam sessions, endless tokens at the batting cage and cheering sections at orchestra concerts, piano recitals, and marching band performances. Love has come in seemingly bottomless chili pots, in bathroom floor doggie blow-dry treatments on stormy nights, laundry stain removal tips and bathroom design services. It’s come in moving two offices and one home (twice), in antique silver lessons, in tech support, in pulling carpet staples from hardwood floors and road trips to and from doctors visits. It’s come from just being together, in the absence of judgement, and allowing each other to be – in the laughter on good and bad days, in difficult and honest conversations, in the sharing of fears and doubts, in words of gentle guidance and encouragement. Love is in the long hugs that say “I see you. I love you. I believe in you. You are enough. You are safe here” and it’s in the frequent moments of pause and deep listening for each other that say the same.
In the 525,600 minutes of the past year, I’ve come to experience joy, belonging, and love to its fullest extent – beyond measure. It’s both incredibly scary and incredibly wonderful all at the very same time. I’ve found moments of contentment and peace that I’ve searched for for so long. What I haven’t found yet are the words or labels that to appropriately capture what this all really means or how to tell the world who my people are to me. Maybe I’ll find them by next year. ❤
Fide Et Cor 