I’ve always struggled to be at peace when things don’t go the way I want them to…I mean, I feel like that’s pretty average. We all want things to go the way we want them to and aren’t particularly happy about it when they don’t.
Matters of the heart are no different.
Following a particularly cutting breakup a few years ago, my friend Kate gifted me with a bracelet that says “What is for you, will not pass you.” I’m obsessed with it.
How comforting that is! Instead of making me feel like life is dictating things to me, it makes me feel like we are working together….that life, and God, and I are all on the same team, working together to find the things that are right for me, and eliminating (even if painfully) the things that are not right for me. It allows me the freedom to let things come, and to let them go, without questioning whether I could have/should have done something different.
It’s absolution…and I appreciate it. Breathe in, breathe out. Que sera sera.
This has worked well for me the past few years…well, really until this past Monday at approximately 8 p.m.
While visiting my old grad school stomping grounds in Kentucky, I stopped by to visit the Captain. While I consider myself fortunate to have gone to grad school with THE most amazing people (#whalesnotsharks), a gal named Morgan and I took most of the same classes, wound up working on the same research projects, and shared a cubicle as teaching assistants. This, along with some other activities, earned us the nicknames of the Captain (Morgan) and the Extinguisher (yours truly).
With Morgan’s sweet new baby in my arms, I began recapping life lately, including all the gory dating details. When discussing a recently failed relationship, I mentioned that on paper (and off), this boy and I seemed compatible and that the chapter just didn’t yet feel closed to me.
Morgan was clearly rooting for the boy and asked if I’d done anything to express my lingering interest.
I mentioned that I had reached out several months after we called it off but that we never wound up meeting.
Clearly still convinced that this was something I should pursue, Morgan said “Well, Roberts, when are you going to reach back out again?! You don’t get just one shot!”
What?
What?!
What. The. Actual. Expletive?!
In one moment, Morgan upended my entire operating procedure. There’s more than one shot? But what about “what is for me, will not pass me”?! I reached out, and it passed me. Wasn’t I supposed to be at peace with that and assume this was life and God and me figuring it out?!
I was rattled…and after days of thinking it all through, I discovered that I knew exactly why I assumed I only had one shot…it’s because I have, what I like to consider to be, healthy portions of pride and dignity.
How on earth could I keep my pride and dignity and circle back to this guy and ask (again) if he wanted to meet up? Uuuummmm…no. You can’t. You just can’t!
But then another thought hit me…what if “what is for you, will not pass you” is not a motto of passivity, what if it’s a battle cry of acknowledging that I can’t screw this up? Maybe I’m supposed to have 5 shots, or 27, or 127, and if I never take the 127th shot, then I’ll never know if it really was for me or if it was supposed to pass me.
Please hear me, while I do enjoy sleeping with my pride firmly intact, what if sleeping with the knowledge that I was an active participant in my own life was even better? Do you sleep better knowing you’re shooting all the shots?
For the love.
Life is hard, y’all…and while this realization started around dating, I can’t help but now see other areas of my life where perhaps I’ve adopted a passive stance on what is for me, when I should be taking my earrings out and fighting for a few more shots. Isn’t that how I’ll know what is actually meant to pass me?
Do I know where the line is between “what is for me, will not pass me” and making an idiot out of myself with missed shots all around? Nope. Sure don’t.
That said, I imagine we can all agree that there’s probably only one way to find out…
Road Trip Updates
Y’all. I stayed in a yurt. More than that, I stayed in a yurt in a town called French Lick. I’m pretty sure this is where my nomad life peaked. The yurt was amazing and also included a gorgeous pond and patio.
However, somehow, despite understanding what a yurt is, I didn’t anticipate that whenever the wind blew the “walls” of my house would rustle and I also didn’t anticipate that I would hear everything. EVERYTHING.
The frogs made it nearly impossible to sleep each night and several times, I woke up in the middle of the night to something walking around in the gravel outside the yurt. No. No thank you.
While I normally could have convinced myself that it was not an axe murderer or a giant bear, I was unable to fully relax each night because I also didn’t have cell service to call 911 should it be either of those options. There were a lot of new experiences for me here. 😊
Aside from the sleep deprivation, the town of French Lick was adorable. I wasn’t able to do too much exploring because I was only there for a short amount of time and was generally focused on finding wifi so I could keep working, but I would absolutely go back! Most importantly, I learned that French Lick is the home of Larry Bird and boy, are they proud of that! Did I have to google Larry Bird to figure out who he was? Yes, yes I did.
Current mileage: 6105 miles
States Stayed in So Far: Florida, Louisiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Missouri, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Indiana, Kentucky
Foodie Shoutouts: The brown sugar and cinnamon latte at French Licks and the Egg-Splosion at the Bagel Bistro
Cool Things: I mean, the yurt?
Love,
Holly
P.S. Here’s a little video recap of my time in Indiana!
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