Curious to walk, a toddler falls while trying to figure out his steps, a pregnant woman huffs and puffs dejectedly while trying to push the baby during delivery.
These failures are essential. The failure helps the toddler eventually find the balance and the failure guides the mother to finally take a deep breath and push enough to bring her baby into this world.
if we stay in tune, there’s a lot to learn.
Failure is the service of learning.
On our drive down to Virginia, we spotted a vehicle in New Jersey with the license plate: MIRCLES. I read that as "miracles" because I'm always on the lookout for them. We joked about tossing, somehow on the NJ turnpike, our "Miracles Reign" tee to the driver. Fortunately, concerning safety, that tee was in the trunk. (Throwing shirts at a moving vehicle does not make for a miraculous event, but rather a dangerous one.) What did make for a miraculous event, however, was that we found ourselves parked next to this exact car at a Maryland rest stop. This single event reinforced two beliefs--there are no coincidences and all is well. In New Jersey and Maryland, I was reminded about...
I'm working on letting life flow. And it's a challenge, no doubt, because I want to be in control. Don't you just want to be the gatekeeper of experiences for your life: "Sorry, not today--not ever. You'll be a setback'er" "Oh, you'll be a feel good'er. Yes, welcome. Come into my life." But I'm not the gatekeeper, and thank goodness since that would also be pretty time-consuming and overwhelming. "I just can't keep up with every single experience that wants IN!" So I'm left with saying "yes" to all of it. Life. Every experience in life. Setbacks, comebacks, gains, losses, highs, lows, happiness, sadness, failures, opportunities-- Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. Life happens for us. The more we let...
Recently, I've been doodling the word "surrender" on any scratch paper at hand. Some versions are printed. Some look like an autograph. Some are written with black ink. And some are in blue. I doodle the word to my heart's content. I may choose to have the word contain symbols or leave it clean so that every letter is clear and readable. Regardless of the visual display, when I see "surrender" staring back at me, I am terrified. Absolutely terrified. There are times I have knots in my stomach and literally feel nauseous. I'm also a bit ecstatic. Do you give yourself permission to surrender? Every time I write the word, it's my attempt to release control. But doesn't it...
