Falling in love with the journey sounds great. In fact, it’s down right cliché if you really think about it. Now, all we need is a field of wildflowers, a size two chick dancing around with perfect hair and glowing sun flare to make it the full package.
Thank you Jose Villa for capturing that perfectly. Yep, I’m totally falling in love with that journey.
The truth is, I haven’t been a size two since who knows when, my grey hairs now have split ends, and I freak out about mosquitos and ticks in the wildflowers. Also, it wasn’t too long ago that my husband was having an affair, wanted a divorce, I had to move out of my dream home into his family’s basement, and my bank account was closed because of too many overdraft charges.
Let’s just call it what it is, the Journey sucks. It makes much more sense to punch Journey in the face and eat some cake.
Maybe you’re a financial wreck. Forget paycheck to paycheck; it’s debt collector to debt collector. Maybe your marriage is the world’s worst. Or maybe you’re still alone. Maybe your heart breaks every month the pregnancy test comes back negative. Or maybe your heart breaks every time the doctor’s report comes back positive. Maybe there’s nothing major, you’re just about to sink under the daily mundane.
Nobody wants to fall in love with this wrenched journey.
So, how did I fall in love with the journey? Did a miracle happen? Did some magic Jesus fairy dust sprinkle over me, and my life journey was perfect and I was running though a field of wildflowers? What changed?
I went rogue and turned my journey inward. I travelled deep into the darkness of my heart, and discovered a girl who desperately needed to be set free. I discovered I wasn’t a victim. I held the power over my life and I decided to change it into a good one.
My journey no longer defines me. I define my journey.
I’m still not a size two, my grays are still split, but I am learning to cover them better, and I stay away from fields with mosquitoes, but every single day I’m falling more and more in love with this messy, imperfect journey called life.
I leave you with this poem by Mary Oliver
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