Tonight was superb. Absolutely lovely. I got treated to dinner by my best friend and realized, in the middle of what has been a wonderful, challenging, roller-coaster two weeks, that life is good.
One of the things I dislike most about myself is my ability to transform a "what-if" into a "gonna-happen" and actually mourn over my fears as if they've actually come true. But I really want to be done with that. Not just for obvious reasons, but because it zaps my energy and really has a knack for depleting my present circumstances of all their joy. And you know what? There is a lot of joy in my life.
We have a beautiful little home in the middle of one of the coolest cities in the country. We have two fenced-in yards and a fireplace. We have animals who make us giggle and love us even when we get angry with them for climbing fences or lying all over our clean clothes. We have more than enough to eat and never go hungry. Our families live close by and we can rely on them for anything at any moment. We have friends in all stages of life who fulfill our needs and allow us to love them however we possibly can. We are healthy. Our bills are paid. We get to treat ourselves and go to grad school and do absolutely nothing, too, if we want. We have a sweet little girl on the way. We have each other. We have Jesus.
But it's oh-so-easy to forget. And I want my memory back.
The picture above is the early birthday gift my friend Mary Beth gave me tonight at dinner. I have a particular fondness for this phrase because it comes from one of my favorite hymns and, at Georgia Southern, it's tradition to sing this song with the marching band after the Eagles win a home game. I played clarinet in the marching band my freshman year, and I've teared up many a time when all the GSU fans rushed the field to sing together after a particularly grueling victory. It evokes all kinds of emotion in me to read these words because the reality is that I know it is well. All of it. Every time I am afraid. Every time I feel insecure. Every time I lose my footing. It is still well. And it always will be.