Today is a new day. The snow has melted away here in Halifax after a blusterous weekend jam-packed with rain and strong wind. A sign of good things to come, I think.
Nothing lifts your spirits more than seeing old, dirty snow wash away into the street drains or soak into the brown grass beneath it. And while there’s not much color out there, I can feel it hibernating. It’s breathing and waiting for the sun.
And so, in this spirit of possibility, I feel the need again to write. I want to tell stories again. I want to live and breathe each moment of each day. And my want needs to become my desire, as I have learned. A want is simply not good enough. A desire is something deep inside all of us, compelling us to live inside the story we have been created to inhabit.
And since I have the day off work, I chose to start my morning differently. After dropping my beautiful, baby-carrying wife off at university, I drove quickly back home and brewed some probably outdated French vanilla coffee. It smelt like wet dog, and it’s taste wasn’t too far from the mark either, but I drank it. For those of you who know me a bit more than the average person, I don’t make coffee. I don’t know if it’s laziness or my inability to measure grinds and water, but I usually make tea. It’s simple and requires little effort. Well, that changed this morning. I brewed my own brew. It tasted weak, I think. After this, I laid back on the couch, underneath the window and read Donald Miller’s latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I soaked it up. I chose to re-read sentences, paragraphs and quotations. I thoroughly enjoyed his ideas and thoughts and now I feel, they have become mine. I have been wanting to start my mornings with coffee and a good read for a long time, and I just don’t do it anymore. If I don’t start living my story, I never will.
Continuing in the burst of excitement, I decided to work out for a bit. I moved the coffee table out of the living room and forced myself to do 10 push-ups and 10 sit-ups. I’ve been gaining a little weight around the stomach area and I’m always complaining about it. Not anymore. I’m going to do something about it. And so, after a painful 10 minutes, I accomplished my tiny goal. It felt great.
I did something today. I lived out part of my story. Are you living yours?