I’ve come to realize for the past twelve months that the more things change, the more they stay the same. We live our lives to make thousands of decisions that affect our short term temperament and thus our long term well-being.
My mind has been all over the place for the past year. Mentally, it was probably the toughest year of my young life. It took a lot out of me; mourning my grandpa’s death, dealing with the shock of my dad’s cancer diagnosis, my grandma’s failing health, my own health problems, among other things. I wasn’t seasoned in the art of mental toughness of this magnitude. Essentially, I’ve been falling asleep behind my cerebral wheel, having my foot completely on the gas pedal.
When most of my fellow denizens of Instagram and Facebook were found in front of a church during the small, mid-week sabbatical of Ash Wednesday taking selfies with ashes on their heads, it dawned on me: I need rest.
I thought to myself sitting in the pews and listening to the good news that perhaps it’s okay to bask in your sorrow of a life that has been led astray; being too busy and too careless to even get anything done.
Within that allotted time, listening to the hymns - it took a short, stubby priest to solidify my clarity. He sermoned to the crowd explaining that the ashes on our heads represent our rebirth. Our ever changing evolution as people. He said that as we give up something for those forty days, it’s inevitable that we discover something in ourselves. Not only does the landscape that you’ve learned to embrace change, you change, thus being a different type of person that you once were.
The best thing you can do is to look in the mirror and know: that you - I rather, have more opportunities to make everything better. Life may go wrong, but it’s up to me to get back up and start all over again.
Food for thought, y’all do the dishes