Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Abundance

When we got back from our study abroad in college, my friend Danny gave me a copy of the The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. For those who've read it, you know that each verse is enlightened, earthy, and simple in its expression. In one place, he writes, "You pray in your distress and in your need; would that you might pray also in the fullness of your joy and in your days of abundance." In light of the week, and the many things that I lately ask for, I am acknowledging my abundance today.

1. I am grateful that there are people in my life who make me laugh so hard my upper lip starts to sweat.

2. I am grateful to have been loved, a couple of times, and for the way it has carved me.

3. I am grateful for a healthy body that responds when I push it and even thanks me for having asked something of it.

4. I am grateful for caramel popcorn, oreos dipped in milk, and pistachio gelato, and the moments when I can enjoy them without thinking twice.

5. I am grateful that the world is diverse and stunning in its variety, and for any chance I've had to visit parts of it.

6. I am grateful for my memory, which catalogues everything from pointless movie lines to the crisp details of moments I never want to forget.

7. I am grateful that I always have someone to call when I need to cry.

8. I am grateful for the conversations my siblings have when we sit together after dinner and that, at the end of the day, we prefer each other's company above anyone else.

9. I am grateful for things that smell good: perfume from Passion Flower, men that pass me on their bikes wearing cologne, and the candles my sister makes.

10. I am grateful that life isn't without meaning; that it all fits together in the end because Someone has specially designed it that way.

Happy Thanksgiving.

 

Friday, November 9, 2012

Investing

Something a little bit sad happened this week. My cute "little sister" from Big Brothers, Big Sisters has hit an age where she'd like to spend more time with friends. So, after four years together, we decided it was time to end the match. What sounds small really wasn't to me—I was crushed. Watching her grow up to be what she is (someone resilient and surprisingly wise, both considering her age and circumstance) has been one of the most significant experiences of my life. Her brightness, strength, and her needs brought out a sense of nurturing and loyalty in me. Even this week, as I applauded for her at the end of her school play, I felt a mother-like pride (evident in my Disney-sized tears).

The truth is, ending my special match with her opened up wounds of other relationships that have ended, some recent, some not. And for a brief moment last night, I broke down at the thought of filling yet another impossible-to-fill hole. Feeling that deep ache of relationships lost—romantic, familial, and friendly—made me question why I invest in them at all when there's no guarantee. And yet, despite the risk, I always seem to play another hand. I keep investing; I keep believing.

As I laid in bed this morning, a nice-sized snowstorm attaching itself to my bedroom window, I decided something with myself. No matter the loss I feel when something ends, for whatever reason, I have to learn to love moments in my life not for how long they last, but for what they meant while they lasted. Because, truly, not every experience needs to last a lifetime in order to be a significant part of life.