Dear Hannah,
Today you turn 40. What a gift. At some point while sitting on the deck in the early morning hour, you got this idea to write 40 love letters during this year of 40. Wonder where this will go? Will you write 40 letters? What will be the point? Will it change you?
It feels like the first love letter should be to you, the person I am often least likely to love. Why is that? Why do so many of us struggle to love ourselves? If I hold to the belief of the divine in us all- then I must believe it for myself.
The second half of the last decade has been one of discovery. I think I am finally getting to know you. Not the you filling a role of: student, teacher, wife, mother, boss. But the you- you.
You do not need alcohol to be funny.
While you often cry, you usually ignore feelings related to yourself.
You have an ingrained belief that your accomplishments equal your value and you have yet been able to convince yourself otherwise.
You are fiercely loved by many.
You LOVE flowers. All those years of saying what a waste of money, lies to yourself. You love the ones not bought in a store the most.
You believe in the power of story. That the telling and really listening to one another's story is the only way towards peace.
Each new discovery about yourself- the ones that had you in bed unsure what to do next and the ones that made you smile with joy- have been a gift.
You have the strongest desire to help people on a similar journey, but maybe we don't need help. Just time, awareness and the pause.
Gratitude, contemplative prayer, writing and walks outside are a must in your life. You just need to do those things, OK? You know how you can get.
You will keep screwing up. Keep apologizing.
Happy Birthday. I love you.
Love,
Me
Today you turn 40. What a gift. At some point while sitting on the deck in the early morning hour, you got this idea to write 40 love letters during this year of 40. Wonder where this will go? Will you write 40 letters? What will be the point? Will it change you?
It feels like the first love letter should be to you, the person I am often least likely to love. Why is that? Why do so many of us struggle to love ourselves? If I hold to the belief of the divine in us all- then I must believe it for myself.
The second half of the last decade has been one of discovery. I think I am finally getting to know you. Not the you filling a role of: student, teacher, wife, mother, boss. But the you- you.
You do not need alcohol to be funny.
While you often cry, you usually ignore feelings related to yourself.
You have an ingrained belief that your accomplishments equal your value and you have yet been able to convince yourself otherwise.
You are fiercely loved by many.
You LOVE flowers. All those years of saying what a waste of money, lies to yourself. You love the ones not bought in a store the most.
You believe in the power of story. That the telling and really listening to one another's story is the only way towards peace.
Each new discovery about yourself- the ones that had you in bed unsure what to do next and the ones that made you smile with joy- have been a gift.
You have the strongest desire to help people on a similar journey, but maybe we don't need help. Just time, awareness and the pause.
Gratitude, contemplative prayer, writing and walks outside are a must in your life. You just need to do those things, OK? You know how you can get.
You will keep screwing up. Keep apologizing.
Happy Birthday. I love you.
Love,
Me
No comments:
Post a Comment