February 15, 2016
So, I have a confession to make...
Can you get dehydrated from crying so much? Because that's the only explanation I can come up with for my weirdo reaction to watching the movie About Time a few nights ago...
The movie follows the love story of two young people: Tim and Mary. But it's no ordinary love story because—wait for it—Tim can time travel to places and times he's been before. The movie is mostly lighthearted and cute, with Tim going back in time to enjoy his love affair with Mary to the fullest, but things take a turn for the serious near the end when a few of Tim's family members are facing death.
And this is when I started sobbing. Or, to be honest, more like ugly crying.
I thought about my life, about the possibility of saying bye to my own family members, of how fleeting this life really is, and I absolutely lost it. As soon as the credits started rolling, I retreated to the bathroom to avoid waking JJ with my sobs.
And, suddenly, something weird happened.
All of a sudden, I felt like I was waking up, opening my eyes for the first time to the beauty of my life.
(A note: I know how strange this sounds! Imagine how strange it felt to live it.)
It was as if my middle school self was opening her eyes to my grown up life, seeing everything new, realizing just how incredible my life is. Sitting on the floor in the my bathroom, I was suddenly so grateful for absolutely everything in my life: our house, my husband, my son, even the tiles and floor I was sitting on.
And I got an incredible urge to go see my son.
I'm usually not one to watch my kid sleep. When he goes to bed, I close the door and appreciate the valuable alone time to text a friend, read a book, talk with my husband, or whatever I feel like, really.
But that night, I couldn't get to his bedside fast enough.
In the dark of his room, I could hardly make out his face, so I turned on his closet light and left the door ajar. He stirred the tiniest bit—but it was enough for me to justify picking him and sitting with him in the rocking chair for a while. Which is what I really wanted anyway, to hold him close. And while we sat there in the dark room, the baby fast asleep in my arms, I cried and cried over him—praying that he'd always be safe, that we'd always be together, that he grow up to be a happy, kind, wonderful man.
When I felt the intensity of the moment pass, I laid the baby back in his crib ever so gently and walked back to my room. I crawled under the covers, cuddled up close to my husband, and fell into the deepest of sleeps.
Now, let's review. Crying in the bathroom? Taking my sleeping baby out of his crib? Praying over him at 11pm? None of this sounds like me.
What got into me? I really can't tell you. It felt like the strongest bout of gratitude that ever existed. ALL THE FEELS, to say the least. 😬🙈
Some may say it was a religious experience, some will say it was just me being emotional about the movie, or maybe it really was dehydration from all that crying! But it doesn't matter in the least. What mattered was the experience—and carrying it forward to every day that follows.
I've shared this quote before, but it's worth repeating:
“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so." ― Mary Jean Irion
May we all enjoy and be grateful for this very normal Monday.
Sending lots of love and light from my desk in Managua to your corner of the world! 😊