Monday, 9 May 2016

Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

This song is deeply entrenched in my mind this morning. It has looped over and over as I strolled to the town's bakery and back. Can I just pause and tell you what a deeply satisfying sentence that is? The aesthetic side of me has always wanted to know what it is like to live in a little town where you know all of the shopkeepers and birds serenade you as you stroll to the town bakery or flower shop. Well, reality is somewhat like the Disney interpretation.

I lay in bed until nearly 11 this morning, watching Scandal and generally mapping out , in my head, what I would do first. My stomach started creeping up near the top of my priority list, as its grumblings told me I would be semi-productive or totally angry if I didn't appease it. So, throwing my schedule to the wind, I threw together a semi-chic, small town girl Saturday morning outfit and put on the coffee (because my roommate works for the best coffee roasters in the Lower Mainland and I have a free pound of it burning a hole in my cupboard). As I glided down my steps and through my gate, I realized that I was sporting scary bedhead and a blank canvas on my face. My roommate's mother would be aghast. She tells her daughter to take care of her ABC's (always be cute) before leaving the house and I've barely taken care of A and B. Shrugging off my chagrin at sporting People of Wal-Mart hair in the cutest town in the world, I carried on my merry way toward breakfast.

Halfway down the road, I had already drunk in the hazy morning sky, the colourful running groups stretching by the trail, and several families wheeling buggies by me. The romantic side of me was inwardly exploding with glee and I just wanted to dance and twirl my way down the sidewalk. In fact, a well-placed bench would have quickly become one of my props. A Gershwin score was running its melodies through my mind.

I can not even make this up, but as I passed the local antique shop, a buggy started rolling away from a dad who had his back to it and I reached out and stopped it before it continued its course for the road. It fit so perfectly into my 'beginning-of-the-best-love-story-or-meet-cute-ever' morning. As I stepped into the bakery, I drank in the lightly powdered, flaky pastries, and hugged my arms to myself as I waited in line. I probably looked a scary disaster, grinning like a deeply contented mad woman on a mission for her delicious glutinous breakfast.

Musing over my walk, the reality began to play out and a smile curved my lips. In reality, a 12 pack of beer at the front end of the stroller is probably what caused it to start rolling away from the dad. Truthfully, in all of my single glory this morning, I couldn't remember fancy words like 'stroller' or 'buggy' and I quickly stopped it with my foot as I called out, "Excuse me, your thingy is rolling away". No word of a lie- that is what I said. Anyway, I picked up my delicious breakfast, walked confidently out the door, and proceeded toward home.

The Gershwin Score never left me and, as it played out in my imagination, I began to realize that mornings like this are full of romance for me. It's not the conventional romance of fairy tales and Nicholas Sparks books. It's deeper than that; it is my heart full. It reminds me of a quote from Friday Night Lights, of all things. Full hearts, clear eyes, can't lose. That's how I feel this morning. My heart is full and it is because of the notion that I am dearly and deeply loved. No matter what I face, I am never alone. And I never have been.

This morning, as I lay in bed, I realized that somewhere deep in my subconscious I felt like I had overcome the worst things that I may face in the first 20 years of my life. I somehow had imagined that I may have smooth sailing from here. I know that there are no guarantees in life, and yet I thought that I would never again face pain or trauma like I had in my past. What a strange paradox I am sometimes. Realistic and yet an eternal optimist. The truth is, I know that I have no guarantees in life other than a Creator who loves me, is everything to me, and guides me through this life. I'm not assured any absence of pain or suffering, but I am promised that He is here with me through it all. I trust that life will turn out better in the next 30 years because I know Him in a way I didn't as a child. I will never again have to face loneliness, betrayal, or suffering alone. No matter what happens to me or my loved ones, He is always my constant. And that assurance feeds a part deep within my soul that no other human could ever touch.

Therefore, with full heart and clear eyes, I strolled the rest of the way home knowing that I couldn't lose; that the very definition of losing had changed so much since I've met Him.

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