I had a few minutes to myself last night when all my friends had left, the party had been cleaned up, the dishwasher was running, and a very tired puppy was curled in my lap. And I was able to relax, to drink the stillness of my house, and to thank my Father for the day - and my life.
I have lived among you all for 26 years. And looking back, one regret overwhelms the others: I wish that I had made up my mind earlier in my life, that looking back now, I would see a blazing trail of certainty and love instead of a shadowy, moonlit meander.
But it's a bittersweet regret: if I had been more firm, more decisive and sure, I would have missed so many relationships, so many opportunities to learn and grow. And while the ache of those broken, hurtful relationships lingers in my heart, I wouldn't opt for a "do-over." I love and miss each of them and am better for having known and loved them. I can't imagine my life without their addition to the story.
You'll find I quote Kahlil Gibran more often than probably necessary. But I cannot help myself.
"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."
-On Joy and Sorrow, from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran
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