The chill in the air.

That’s what started it all, this current moment of peace, of calm, of happiness. It is like the heat of all the things that caused pain has given way to a cool breeze, light on my skin, waking up something in me like childhood.

In this moment the deliciousness of coffee, the sweetness of our kids playing, the coziness of pulling on a sweater to ward off a chill, are bringing me a delight that comes from being very present. It makes me wonder, why does this feel so new? And if I am so happy right now, what is the source of unhappiness? Because this is the good stuff.

And I think the answer is this: trying to check out of pain. It is so ironic that we think we can find happiness by hiding, numbing, escaping. Wheather it is Netflix, social media, food, wine, over working. So lately I have been trying to do the opposite. I have just come out of a challenging period praying for healing, for growth, for peace and the fruits of these prayers are bearing fruit. The cross and the crown, repeated over and over again in our lives.

It is a combination of things that led me here. I have been trying to eat well. Sleep well. Drinking less. Not watching tv. Organizing. Cleaning. Taking a lot of walks with friends. Taking long walks with myself. Joining a tennis league. Lots and lots of reading. Of course, the kids going to school gave me more time to work and to play. But there has also been a lot of prayer. And a combination of reading books about healthy eating/low sugar, understanding the way our brains seek dopamine hits, and finding natural highs to replace them. Sunshine. Laughing. Tea. An apple.

I don’t know what to call it. All I know is I’m finding the same things that made me happy when I was 12 making me happy. Listening to music. Journaling. Rest. Inside jokes. Feeling alive in each moment. I’m finding a million things each day that bring joy.

It was also reading this book – St. Therese’s Way of Trust and Love by Fr. Jaques Philippe. The deep discussion of humility leads to a radical acceptance with exactly who you are. Loving your neighbor as yourself requires you to love yourself. So through these meditations, perhaps I’ve let go of the last lingering parts of me that still believed I would be loved based on what I do rather than who I am. Aren’t we all in various stages of letting that go? Every inch of progress on that journey yields the joy of increased self-acceptance. And further, this book holds that the parts of you that are weak are useful in keeping you humble. St. Therese’s Way is one of trusting that being little means when we fall down, which we will do because of our smallness, we don’t have that far to go to get back up again.

And then a few weeks ago, I saw this interview. And it hit me: how would I live it if I only had a short time left to live? I am astounded by the way her words have impacted me. I wrote these down in my phone notes and have read them over and over again:

There is so much beauty and poetry in the world if you are willing to sign off on the pain that it takes to stay awake.

I remembered a time when I used to feel that more. The poetry more. And I wanted to surrender from whatever things that were keeping me from that. Feeling a feeling as it comes. Not trying to run away from it. Feeling deep down loved – by my God, myself, my people. Realizing that the thing I was trying to numb out most from was the stories I was telling myself. Staying awake to both the bad and the good and finding the good so outweighs the bad.

And now, in my very favorite season, I am living life wide awake. The autumn sunshine, the laughter with my teens, the hugs from my toddlers. Nurishing myself with real food most of the time, but relishing homemade apple cake with my coffee. Trying to make sure there is only a loving voice inside my head, no matter what I eat, no matter what I do or don’t do.

Each day, I wake up trying to love well. Others, myself, my God. Somehow, this has generated hope. Because to love well also means to suffer well. Life’s pain and stresses aren’t going anywhere. Heartache is right around the corner for me and the people I love. But I have more faith now in my ability to withstand it if it comes because of who I love, and because I know He loves me. It’s part of the surrender. It’s part of the trust.

This season I am finding my way back to myself, my deep down self, and it is hard to describe how good it feels. It feels like childhood. It feels like wholeness. It feels like home.