I carried these words with me through the next years as I struggled to wrestle my grief and disillusionment and pain and joy and hope to the ground and redeem something new and beautiful with it all. I carried them in my heart and revisited them when I needed the reminder that this renewal may look like telephone poles but I don’t have to care. That for some things, for this thing, there was no wrong season. And like Mary Oliver, it was what I dreamed of for me.
Before the end of the evening we set up the self timer on the camera and all got in for one group shot. We’re smiling and happy and there are incriminating red solo cups scattered across the counter. I hope someday my kids come across this picture and smile at the sight of their parents clearly having too much fun. I hope they’ll know just how hard and just how worth it it is to chase after a few hours of carefree fun with your friends. And I hope they’ll have their own thirty-something friends to be carefree with, in only for a few hours.
I love a good book post and while this one is certainly coming in at the very last possible moment to still be considered a 2018 post, I still think it’s the perfect day to curl up and make an ambitions TBR list for the coming year. Here’s the best of what I read in 2018. I finished the year having read 60 books, which isn’t quite as many as last year, but birthing a podcast takes a toll on reading time, apparently. I’ve got three categories for us, non-fiction, fiction and the best author I discovered this year.