I’m glad you are here to celebrate! Share a link to your blog post below and/or use #celebratelu to share celebrations on Twitter. Check out the details here. Celebrate This Week goes live on Friday night around 10(ish). Consider it as a weekend celebration. Whenever it fits, add your link. Please leave a little comment love for the person who links before you.
I spent time with my best friend from high school. It was bittersweet. She’s home because her mom is fighting a battle with cancer and awaiting remission and a transplant. We’ve been out of touch, but when I found out about her mom, I sent her an email that began, Let’s skip the catching up and so sorry for not being in touch and skip to the part where we know once best friends, always best friends.
I was anchored just by sitting in the same room with her. It’s been years, decades really, since we’ve done this. It was a gift, getting to talk freely, completely unfiltered, praying and crying and laughing together.
I didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing. I didn’t have to worry about filtering the story of my kids’ histories. I didn’t have to worry about whether she would like me. I learned a long time ago that when it’s just Jodi and me everything is okay.
And she gave me this gift — right there in the midst of the very hard that life is handing her — she said, “I’m glad you are sharing your stories on Facebook because now I get to know you and your kids, but I also get to know myself. Your story helps me understand my own story and faith.”
Jodi doesn’t know that right then, in that moment, God breathed through her and filled me with fresh resolve, confirming this writing life isn’t a pipe dream, it isn’t a waste of time. My prayer is I wouldn’t only write my truth, but I would write universal truth, and it would be anchored in the Truth.
I celebrate this answered pray and fresh resolve to keep writing.
I was in a car accident on my way home from school Friday night. Everyone was okay. Slowing down for a car in front of me to turn, I didn’t even notice anyone behind me until he hit me. He didn’t see me, didn’t slow down. It hurt. It still hurts.
And I’m left with the reminder that life is not guaranteed. Just because I’m healthy and busy today does not mean I’m promised tomorrow.
Mary Oliver said, “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”
On a day when you hug your dear friend’s mom on one of her darkest days, and share the hard stories life has handed you, and then are rammed by a too fast car, this question catches your breath in your throat.
Woven through the hard stories Jodi and I shared were specks of glitter, celebrations and laughter and even a few baby giggles, reminding me that life is precious…and wild…and singular.
We only get one chance.
It gives me resolve for gritty celebration and bold, radical faith.
Please link your celebrations below.