Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, friend. If you’re south of the border, consider this an early rehearsal.
This one’s a few hours late. It’s a holiday Monday, and I’m practising what I preached last week.
A week ago I told you I fell apart a little. And then my inbox filled up. So many of you wrote back to say you’re sitting in the intermission too, and not one of you told me everything happens for a reason. I can’t tell you how much that held me this week. Thank you.
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THIS WEEK
I’m still in my seat. Still listening to them bang things around behind the curtain.
At this stage of life there is so much change that some days I feel like I’m twenty-two again, trying to decide where my life is going. Except now I know myself better, and my knees have opinions.
But something has shifted.
I’m not waiting for the curtain to go up to feel grateful.
I’m finding it right here, in the not knowing. In the ordinary moments.
I spent this weekend with my kids, and it was warm and easy and full. Madison wasn’t home this year, and that’s hard. Life changes, families change shape, and I’m learning to hold both. A full table and an empty chair.
And I’m grateful for you. For showing up in my inbox and letting me show up in yours.
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If you have five quiet minutes today, somewhere between the turkey and the dishes, go listen to The Sitting at the end of Gertrude’s episode. It’s about gathering the good. You start small, with the chair holding you up, and let it build from there. Gertrude closed Season One by showing me how to find what is good in the room you’re in. I can’t think of a better way to spend Thanksgiving.
In love, light and laughter,
Karen