A few nights ago, William and I finally went to see The Hundred Foot Journey, a story of two amazing but totally different restaurants in a small town in France-- one a Michelin One Star restaurant on a quest for the second star; the other an Indian restaurant. It was fantastic. If you haven't seen it, GO! It was beautiful, fabulously acted, and I afterwards I desperately wanted to go back to France, and find a restaurant asap that served up great curry. It was about finding peace and joy, discovering passion-- your own passion, not someone else's, and knowing your priorities.
It hit me-- I've done all those things. I am happy. I have amazing family and friends that I love endlessly. I know that those in my inner circle and my true friends who I can count on for anything. I trust them with my life and I love them beyond measure. I have two daughters that I love so much that it hurts. I have found my passion-- writing about things that matter (surviving an alcoholic home, cancer, health, divorce and parenting), traveling, experiencing life, constantly having personal growth, and focusing on my health (emotional, physical, and spiritual). Years ago, someone asked me what I would do for a living if making money wasn't important. I wasn't sure. Open a cupcake shop? a doggy daycare center? Nothing? I know now-- write, travel, experience, obsess about health. And I'm doing that now.
For the first time in my life, my priorities are absolutely in the right order. It's all in place. Self, health, family, friends, love, doing things that matter, experiencing all that I can, traveling, discovering, and, well, I am being repetitive here... loving. Oh yes, and being grateful-- grateful for every single day I'm here on earth, alive, breathing and listening and learning.
Which is not to say that all is perfect. I hate that I have myeloma. I hate that I have fatigue. I hate that I am maybe 80-90% of my former physical self and that percent may never increase. This may be as good as it gets. I hate that I'm so dang busy all the time and I can't be more efficient or faster or better because I can't physically or mentally do it. I'm slower and I can't work to improve that. I hate that my body has changed thanks to medications and age. I hate that there isn't a cure for cancer. I hate that I haven't hit the lottery.
All that aside, I'm so blessed and lucky. I am surrounded by love and support. And as I head quickly to my 47th birthday and Thanksgiving, this is my sappy thought of the day.
While up at the top of the mountain in Palm Springs this past weekend, we hiked a bit. And then we stopped, listened, watched, and smelled. It was beautiful. This is how I know God lives-- each time I see his awesome creations, I just know He's there. There was a woodpecker. And a squirrel. The air smelled of pines. It was beautiful. Several weeks ago, I went with Katherine and the kids up the canyon and we walked a beautiful trail. And then a tree fell. Naturally. Out of nowhere. It made a huge crack, then a whoosh, as a tree fell not too far from us. I never had that happen to me before. It was amazing. We laughed and we were all stunned. And we realized how cool it was. These days, I notice these things. In my awful life when married, I noticed nothing of the sort. I was too busy surviving, working, surviving, and grieving. Walking on eggshells. Too busy with my utter disgust with my drunk husband and myself for sticking with him, to notice or appreciate anything. Life wasn't pretty, peaceful, or meaningful. Today, it is. What a stark, vivid contrast. Did cancer make this all happen. I cringe to say that, yes, it did. Enough for now, it's late and I'm tired.
Now go see that movie! Plan a trip to France. Go eat amazingly delicious food. Make your Bucket List and get busy crossing those things off. And hug the people you love.
Goodnight my readers,
Lizzy
No comments:
Post a Comment