This is a good life

There are so many things I want to do. I could hand you a list right now -- I'd just need to fetch it from my bedroom -- and it would be filled with dreams to leave the country and fly to Italy, to taste cool gelato beneath my tongue, filled with goals to write a book and attend the Olympics and make a stained glass window. The other day I panicked that I wouldn't get to do it all. I walked to the woods and thought, "Am I wasting my life away?" I thought, "Am I going to make it to Italy?" I thought, "Am I going to wish I spent my days more wisely instead of dabbling words and watercolour onto pages, stirring lattes and taking change, and dreaming about cobblestone pathways that end by the sea?"

Screen Shot 2015-04-13 at 9.41.38 AM I convince myself life is only good if it's a constant series of adventures, if it includes drives to the airport and rumbling take offs and jet lag and souvenirs. I have talks with my best friend Sarah about the importance of sometimes staying, and she reminds me life is good, always good, even in the midst of the darkness. She points out it's also good in the midst of the mundane, and smack dab in the middle of the light. I'm awfully grateful God has placed people into my life that keep me grounded. Sometimes I wonder what I'd be like without them, knowing I surely would have floated away by now.

The list in my bedroom taunts me, reminding me of all the things I thirst to do, and it's a good list because I am allowed to dream, and I remember those 85 kids in Rwanda who were hardly given that opportunity.

I know that this is a good life. Whether or not I meet the people or see the places or do the things I long to do and see and meet.

I know that this is a good life. I have so many stories to tell you, so many words to share, and when I look at my life like the days falling against the next in a stack of dominos, I see love and Jesus and remarkable times.

I know that this is a good life. I think of the people I have met, and I'm sure some don't remember me, but I remember them. This is life, isn't it? People, filled with humanity that is reflected in ourselves, people, who teach us grace and what it's like to feel alive.

Screen Shot 2015-04-13 at 9.41.25 AM I don't have to go to Italy to know I feel alive. I feel it right now: the tips of my electric blue nail polished toes on this cold tiled floor. I don't have to go somewhere to find my life; I'm living it right now. Every breath and word and desperate prayer is mine, and I know this is a good life.

I hold onto the fact that I wouldn't trade it for anything.