This isn't a dramatic Friday night story. This is to say, I think I'm "unstuck".
In the wee hours (10am) this morning, I wrote in my travelers journal for the first time in four months. The last entry? 8/29/15.
And if you know me, you know this is insane. I love documenting silliness, everyday life, blah blah blah. The small stuff. It gives me joy. Makes me happy; giddy; alive and wanting to hug everyone in sight.
(Sidenote: not that I haven't been writing, obviously, but I haven't been reveling in it. I haven't been writing for the purpose of remembering my circumstances—I've been writing to survive them.)
But this morning, for the first time since August, I wanted to remember something. I found a door I didn't know existed. That's what humanity does for us in suffering.
Yes, old friends are the best. But if you're like me, in a new city, with a whole new life and possibilities in front of you—and happenings that throw you off or get you down—there is a way to get up. To stand up.
I asked a friend how to navigate life when it felt so darn directionless. Her answer? Meet new people.
And yes, I'll always say the Lord. But today, it's the Lord through new people.
Meeting others is a gift. I think I forgot that. But this morning, I wanted to write it. In my journal/soul/heart/every space in between. This morning, I had a memory I wanted to remember. Just for funsies.
And it felt nice to write it down.
Not to say life is perfect, or without sadness, hardship, questions. (I'd say mine is a mix between MTV2 & a Lifetime movie.)
But here's to something simple; something I want to write down: here's to re-learning how to be in love with the small stuff; and to the gift of new people who help you see it.
Here's to a deep breath after a deep low; and to the fight to be present.
Let's do something today that we want to remember. Let's scribble something on napkins or postcards or hearts, and never forget the art of human connection.