passion.

Yesterday I was at Rotary and our speaker challenged us to think of something we are passionate about...or at the very least, something that when we think of it, doesn't make us feel angry (yes, there's a lot of room in between those two, but you get the point).  Truthfully, I was blank.  Which then caused me a bit of anxiety because I couldn't come up with anything.  I mean, who can't think of something that automatically brings them joy?  Okay, sure, I could say M but that's a given.  What she meant was, what am I passionate about?  What is something that when I think about it, I get butterflies and excited and can't wait to pursue it in every aspect of my life?  And, then she broke it down further...to the smaller, less obvious things we tend to overlook that make us feel joy in the moment...and I realized something awful... I have sort of stopped focusing on these things, haven't really stopped to enjoy the many wonderful, beautiful things and moments around me constantly.  What the hell is going on with me???  I think back to past posts and I know that many of them stemmed from some simple moment, or quote, or picture that struck me and caused me to dwell on it and create something from it.  And, then, it hit me.  I know why I haven't been writing.  
I sat at dinner last night with a dear friend and we talked some about a dream I had the night before, one I've never had before, yet was as real and vibrant as if I was truly living it.  In my dream I was in the middle of a book signing...MY book signing.  I've only been to two book signings, one for a local author I know and love so I wasn't nervous, but simply excited to share such a great moment with her.  But, the second was for one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Berg, a woman whose prose has inspired me and given me countless phrases and quotes that fill pages of my beloved notebooks.  And, as I stood in line to meet her, I was crazy nervous and found myself speechless, terrified that when it was my turn for a few seconds with her the words wouldn't come.  Something about getting to actually meet a "hero", although that's not really how I would characterize her, but you get the point.  I was sort of disappointed by the way the "handler" came around with sticky notes and asked us who we wanted the dedication made out to upon our turn at the desk, but ultimately it made sense so the process was simplified for the author as we each approached her.  I could tell you that when it was my turn I somehow gathered myself and said something profound, but I didn't.  I was like a kid nervously climbing on Santa's lap, nervous and desperate for approval and some sign that the moment meant something.  I know I wasn't memorable to her, but that's okay.  I got to speak with her and share with her my favorite book of hers and I walked away with a memory of a moment that ultimately meant something to me.  Okay, so back to the dream... The most monumental thing in it was that I could see the jacket of my book...I could read the title and it was the EXACT SAME TITLE I chose a year and a half ago when I half-ass committed to writing said book!  The line of people looked the same as the one I stood in almost a year ago, and each stepped before me with a little yellow sticky note with a name written on it in black Sharpie.  There was only one person I knew and his role in the dream only meant something to me so that's not really important to this story.  But, as I shared the dream, I was then encouraged to finally do it already.  To write it.  The title was there for a reason.  Like a sign.
Yesterday, as I walked Gracie, I took notice of things around me in ways I haven't been doing for quite some time.  The was the breeze felt through my hair, the way the lilac bushes smelled as I passed by, the colors of porch decorations, the vibrancy of the trees and flowers, the way people looked at us as they drove by, the way Gracie purposefully stopped in certain places, the excitement she showed when we approached other people...all things that happen every single day when we walk.  And I thought to myself, "which one of us is enjoying this more?"  Here's the thing...ultimately I'm pretty simple.  I'm not an overly girly-girl.  It's always been easy for me to appreciate the little things/moments in life, yet, for some reason, I sorta stopped.  It's not that I stopped noticing, but I stopped appreciating I think.  In some ways I blame social media...we share so much that often it all runs together and becomes almost trite so in order to NOT sound so Pollyanna about life, I think I just stopped making note of everything and in not verbalizing my gratitude and joy, I somehow stopped appreciating it internally as well.  At least that's where I think I am.  I try to be in tune with the people and things around me.  I've always been overly empathetic, and maybe with the work I've been doing the past couple of years - while I've loved it in many ways - I've been over-drawn emotionally and finally put up a wall of sorts to balance out some of that.  The negative to this has been my having less empathy, patience, and, ultimately, passion for the people and things in the rest of my life...you know, those who truly matter when it's all said and done.  I have discovered I don't compartmentalize well.  So, I'm looking for a new position.  I love our organization, and the families we serve, but it's time.  
So, back to the beginning...  What is my passion?  What fills my soul? What do I get excited about?  What gives me butterflies?  People.  Stories.  Words.  And...laughter (loud, laugh til your cheeks hurt, genuine laughter), the smells of fresh cut grass and clean laundry, the middle of a really good book (the middle...because I'm just getting into it in the beginning, not quite invested, and by the end I'm already sad that something I've grown to love is coming to an end), the first sip of coffee in the morning, a shared bottle of wine, the sound of wind chimes, the low roll of thunder as a storm is approaching, the anticipation of an adventure (especially as I walk off a plane in a new place), the feeling of coming home after a long day, hearing M still call me "Mommy", hugs that include having my back stroked, sideways glances that say more than any words could in the moment, sunsets...funny, as I type this I realize I could go on and on.  Maybe I'm not as off balance (I almost used the word "broken" or "messed up", but I stopped myself - we are only as broken as we choose to remain) as I thought.  Maybe it's all in my perspective.  Again.  A choice.  Which leads me to grace.  Thank God for grace...literally.  The words below have been heavy on my heart the past few days...it's no secret, this is one of my all-time favorites, and every time I hear it, I'm reminded that if nothing else is sure in my life in this very moment...He Loves ME...  And right now, as I'm trying to re-center myself, I need these words so much.