I had my beer (singular) and pizza (slices - plural) last night. It's comforting, the lazy ramblings between Tom and I as he does work and I do nothing. There is a song that pops into my head from some soundtrack I'm sure I own.... "feels like home to me/feels like home to me/feels like I'm all the way back/where I belong." Lately I've felt that way, like this is it. This is where I am supposed to be. With these people, with this job. The past few days, hanging out with Tom last night, working yesterday at The Dubliner, and the two nights I've been at UC really made me feel like I came home. It just feels like I belong here. This is what I was searching for. This is what I found.

I can honestly say I am happy, with my life, my friends, my job, my family. I think what comes naturally to me now is that I know there are holes. Before I don't think I noticed them. I can point out the weak spots, the rotten areas, and the emptiness in my life (the garden of life,) but I'm content with fixing one problem at a time. The metaphor is that the flowers grow out of the soil - but there also is a story of a woman who is watering her garden. She works on one part of her garden at a time, watering it with the tools (faith) she has available. In the beginning she only has her hands to use to water the garden, and as she fixes more of the garden (and journeys through life,) it is easier for her to water her plants. She soon has a bucket to water her plants with, then a gardening hose. As her faith grows, her garden is nourished and blossoms. The flowers grow from the holes, the rotten areas, and the emptiness her garden once was.

Noticing the weaknesses, the holes, the rotten areas, the emptiness is a step in growing up that must be taken. As a child you believe that the world is perfect. As you become older you realize that the world isn't perfect, though you want it to be. When you mature, you no longer want life to be perfect, you're happy with it just as it is. I've reached that phase. I see the world isn't perfect, life isn't fair. And that's okay. It's o-kay. Just that thought is so releasing. I don't have to make life perfect, or be upset when things aren't fair. I can accept the imperfections of my garden, and still smile when the flowers bloom.

~~~~~

Who could believe all that musing came from a bottle of beer and a few slices of pizza? Don't ever give me them together again!