Just two days ago, my husband got MRI results for his knees. The doctor's words? "Your career is over." My sweet husband who was the best basket ball player on any team he joined can no longer run, jump, dive, or leap. I don't know if he or I was more devastated. I cried my little eyes out two nights ago. My heart is broken for him.
The text he sent me read, "I guess I always thought I'd be able to do the things with my kids that my dad did with me." He never thought he would be in this position.
I told him we can't give up yet. That prayer is powerful. That he shouldn't resign to never play ever again (of course, the doctor said if he plays, he will end up needing knee replacements)...
Letting go of things that are so close to us and our identity can be extremely challenging. I recently have been grappling with the fact that I will never get the chance to be the president of my chamber choir - a position I have wanted to fill for years and years and years of my life. I have recently been coming to terms with the fact that I am not a music education major, which is what I really wanted to do. These are things that you just wish with all your might and strength to go back in time to change. maybe if his jumping form had been better, his knees would be okay...
Matt's words, "I never, ever thought I'd be in this place at the age of 30" were hanging in my memory yesterday. They hung there so long because my father spoke the exact same words to me yesterday as well (replace the 30 with a 60). "I never thought I'd be here," he said. What's funnier is that I never thought I would be where I am, either. Married at 21 and never living with roommates in college.... what! But here I am. And here's my Dad. And here's my sweet Matthew.
So all this hanging-of-words in my brain got me thinking. What do we do with situations like these that are handed to an unknowing and sometimes not-so-grateful us?
My dad has a great chance to start something new in his life now that old doors are closing.
I have had the best 2 years of my life - sharing a home and living with the one person I care most about.
Matthew has a chance to do other sports he may never have tried - kayaking?
I once heard that there are three keys to true happiness. Aside from not mentioning Jesus Christ, I think they are pretty spot on.
1) Don't have expectations. If you do, you will always be let down.
2) Be thankful. For everything. Not just around the holidays.
3) And the third one for the life of me... I can't remember. But surely the first two are a good start.
If I expected to be living with other girls, if my Dad expected to have some phenomenal career that left him a millionaire, and if Matt expected to play on tournament winning teams until the end, we were all headed in the direction of being let down. Instead, we ought to be thankful. At least Matt has legs. At least I don't have to leave college and try to find "the one". At least my Dad has had an amazing music career that has left him with beautifully fond memories and a rich musical background.
So today, I am thankful. I am thankful for my husband, for the rest of his perfectly well-functioning body, and for my dad's musical intuition that has led me to the one thing that I love most in this life. I am so very, very thankful.
And now on to more playful things, like leaves.
This is preeeetttttty much my go-to outfit this fall/winter. A sweatshirt, a skirt, some tights or leggings, and something big and warm around my feet and calves. Any combination of colors is great.
The boots are Sorrell, and although I don't wear them often, I have been extremely thankful for them in snowier times. H&M skirt, Nordstrom sweater.
Happy hump day friends.