I recently finished a novel by Elin Hildenbrand which finished with a letter from a deceased woman. In it she detailed two different trips she’d taken to St John’s with her Husband, one when they were camping, penniless and one when they were flush, in a condo.
She said they were basically the same trip, because all they really cared about was being together. Hot dogs or shrimp, bikes or a jeep, together was the only part of the trip that mattered.
I want to adopt that lesson and set it free in my own life, because to be honest with you, I get hung up when the best laid plans don’t pan out.
I’m finicky and particular, I like things a certain way and I rarely relax… and it sucks.
I got a chance to apply this yesterday when we set out for a trip to the zoo only to find it closed. So, Kel improvised and took us to the cheap theater for and encore viewing of Despicable me 2 followed by a mexican food dinner.
It wasn’t the picturesque, instargrammy, autumn walk in the zoo I was hoping for.
It wasn’t low fat or organic
It wasn’t budget friendly (my inner Dave Ramsey disapproved)
It didn’t hold up to my high ideals or parenting preferences.
But you know what? I allowed myself to be swept up in it and I had a really great time.
I unburdened myself from the weight of all my lofty ideals and gave in to the language of minions and the saltiness of a second bowl of chips.
Because we were together, laughing and crunching and enjoying the blessing of time.
When here is where we’re together, I want contented sighs to soon follow… some of them even mine.