I got back into LA last night after a quick trip to Phoenix. My brother had a show to play so I planned to tag along (part of my choosing to move closer to home was actually to visit home more often than just holidays). I was also DYING to meet Jenna, who started Blessed Is She, in person considering we text all day every day and chat on the phone and even sit in front of each other on facetime. And she was even lovelier than I imagined. I got to have moments with my parents that I know I’ll cherish forever. And I also got to spend time with some of my oldest and dearest friends. I can’t forget that I also got to go to the wedding of the couple that I’ve been working on all the paper goods for their special day–a couple that I admire so much and believe that the world is a better place now that they are starting a family together.
So all of that was planned. I knew those moments would take place when leaving LA on Friday night. But then, thanks to the help of social media, I saw that a man I knew in New York was also in Phoenix. I never in my life fathomed seeing him again. It has been almost two years. He met up with us. Memories of where I was at that time in my life flooded back in. I remember how hard I was trying to make my actions match my heart and it wasn’t working. I was not exactly in the best state of my life. Since then, so much has changed. I changed jobs, moved apartments, got sober, began learning calligraphy, moved cities, stayed sober, started my own business. I’d say in that time, I found myself, came to terms with myself, and am continually growing to better myself with each passing day.
He, too, has been on a similar journey. And we cross paths again. I can’t even tell you how lovely it was and none of it came from my control. I did not will it into happening. It just happened.
Now I’m back to my normal life. I cannot hold onto those moments just as much as I could not have made them happen. There is a letting go that must occur. A grateful letting go. You see, it wasn’t mine to take or to wish that it would last longer. It was a free gift–all beautiful moments are–and if I try to latch on, the beauty diminishes. If someone gave me a gift, I would never think about asking for a greater gift. So why do I so often ask God for more than he offered me so lovingly?
This is a lesson for me. To let even moments be free from my grasp. And to let God be God who is the provider of such serendipity, divine providence, and beauty.