"Here's looking at you, kid."

I’m not in the best of moods tonight, dear reader, but perhaps I should take a moment to acknowledge what I’ve accomplished today, because that will surely skew the scales and make it nicer to listen to me ramble on.

I got up very early,

packed my car,

prepared a lunch,

went to the beach and bathed in the ocean,

dried myself and my hair in the sun,

spent lots of sweet time with Chloe at work,

dropped by my house to pick up some last minute things,

then drove across the width of Florida in my car, Rimmy-chan.

My parents fed me wine and crackers and soup when I got in, and I thoroughly smushed Goldy’s face, Indiana Bones’ surviving dog step-sister.

And though the occasion of my visit this weekend is to spend time with family and to have an old-fashioned Shabbat dinner together, my parents recently adopted a new puppy. Naturally, the visit became almost as much about meeting him, too.

In all the photos I had seen of him (Bogart Bones, we call him), he has this unmistakable look in his eyes that Indiana always had. And so my heart swelled with anticipation for meeting this boy who might have something of Indy in his soul, though that’s a lot of pressure to put on the little guy and the situation in general, especially because he growls and barks at me and peers around corners to see if I am still there…

The drive over here was broken up by bouts of heavy rainfall, and when the skies would clear again it would give me such an empowering lift. How whole I suddenly started to feel, like a whole pie with no missing pieces. There is something womanly about this feeling, like being a real, live, whole woman and not half-girl, half-woman. And though I don’t always enjoy long-distance driving, having all that space and time to think has recently uncovered within me so many internal miracles—so many miraculous truths have been revealed to me while on the road. Packing up my car this morning, it suddenly felt like I was packing up to leave for good, and that honestly felt good. It felt like an electric secret, a “preview of coming attractions.” But one of the flip sides of having the ability to tune into a reality that hasn’t yet hit this dimension is the strong tendency to live too much in the future, and to essentially miss out on all the very best stuff that you can only have in the present.

The grief I’ve lately been feeling for Indiana’s passing washed back over me as soon as I parked my car in the drive. Later, after bursting into tears when he didn’t come to greet me at the door, it occurred to me that I’ve really been fighting against what’s in the here and now. I want to change the present in ways which have become immutable; evermore. I guess this is when having a stiff upper lip comes in handy, though maybe I should be a little softer around the new little guy. It’s kind of an ego check when the friendliest puppy anyone has ever met will barely let me pet him. 

This is the point in the post, dear reader, when I sum everything up and end it all on an encouraging note, but I don’t have that in me tonight. Forgive me. 

Instead, I’ll leave you with this:

One of the reasons why I so dearly treasure the Shabbat is because it’s the one day out of the week when you can just let go the reigns. Just let go. Because to truly rest is to relinquish control. When you do this, all that’s left is the present moment. On Shabbat, I try to go one step further and appreciate the present moment, no matter what. I believe that only then can God’s work truly saturate your heart and shift your world. 

Till Monday, my friends.