One of the very best quotes in the long historical anthology of great wisdom is this:
“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is.” – Albert Einstein
I love this quote, and I like to live my life leaning towards the miraculous.
And, here’s today’s miracle:
I love looking back and seeing how all the dominos in life lined up: If I hadn’t been at that party I never would’ve met my husband, if I hadn’t met that friend I never would’ve been at that party, if I hadn’t gone to this school I never would’ve met that friend, etc.
So often the beautiful moments in life were being formed long before our simple minds were ever aware. The subtle impact our mundane, “everyday” decision can have is so so beautiful to look back on.
And today is no exception.
I recently wrote about my new exercise routine of running at the butt-crack of dawn.
I always SWORE that I would NEVER-EVER-EVER be a runner. I hate running, (“yeah, don’t put me down for cardio” name that movie!!) I hate sweating. And yet somehow, I have been waking up at 5:30 and running. . . consistently.
I also wrote a post this summer about forcing myself to say yes to fun times more often. I was asked by a friend to go to the lake, and despite my messy house and endless chores I went. And I’m so glad I did because I had the most wonderfully fun day with my kids.
Plus, I made a new friend.
A friend who would soon ask me to join a club. . .
A running club.
(That’s my friend/coach in the background, rocking a bikini in her forties. Running does a body good, right?)
So, not only would I have missed out on all that fun at the lake, but I would never have become a runner, and I wouldn’t have made this new friend who has already challenged me to become a better human being, none of it.
Dominos lining up.
Guys, that’s miraculous.
But it doesn’t stop there.
Last night all three of us, (there are three runners now) tried to get out of running this morning. I don’t know how it happened, but somehow, even when all three of us wanted to back out, we still went.
When I left the house this morning (Crazy-stupid early) I realized that it was raining.
And still, we ran.
There is just something about the rain that makes me feel alive. I believe it has something to do with my Alaskan roots. I was born in Petersburg, Alaska and lived there briefly until my father passed away.
Rain could’ve been a defining landscape in my life, instead it has become a reminder of what could’ve been.
And this morning that reminder was definitely there.
At first the rain just felt good: sweet, nostalgic, refreshing.
Then it felt cold.
Then it felt bad-ass.
I must really be a runner, because I just ran 3 miles in the rain. . . at 5 a.m.
Maybe I still got a little Alaska pumping through these veins after all.
After my run, (and my warm shower) I sat down to my computer and had a surprise email from my aunt.
She shared with me her own story about a few fun coincidences, all of which seemed rather small and sweet and insignificant.
That is, until she got to the punch line.
Through a seemingly random and disjointed series of events, my aunt had stumbled across a woman who used to live in my old home in Alaska. Her husband bought the house from my mom and had known my dad.
(Guys, both of my parents are dead.)
Hearing this news on a morning when I was already washed over with sentimentality was epic.
Just the idea that there is a woman in my current town that would have ANY stories about my old home, my old town, my lost parents. . . Well, I instantly started crying.
I immediately got on the phone with my sister to talk this news out and in mid conversation it occurred to me.
This morning, while trying to convince myself to leave the comfort of my warm home and venture out into the bitter-rainy cold, I’d chosen a particular sweat-shirt to bundle up in.
This shirt was at the very bottom of my stack and I haven’t worn it in years.
I had no idea at the time why I chose it instead of my usual coats.
But, now I do.
Petersburg, Alaska, my would’ve been home-town. Pacific Wing Inc, the company that would’ve been my dad’s. (He was a float-plane pilot.)
I wore this shirt, while running in the nostalgic rain, on the morning when I would receive an email full of stories about my old home, and new contacts with people from that other life.
Oh the dominos.
I ran because a friend asked me too, a friend I met at a lake because I refused to say “no”. I ran in the rain because the weather makes me nostalgic. I ran in my dad’s old shirt because I didn’t want to be cold.
I ran on the morning I would get a sweet letter full of new possibilities.
Possibilities of more stories, more friendships, more memories.
Guys, there are two ways to live your life. . .
One is as though nothing is a miracle,
the other . . .
as though everything is.
And today is full of miracles.