A Blessing...

Heather wrote a blessing for me, in honour of my 39th year. In light of my own writer's block, I will share it with you here.

Michele, in the upcoming year, as you near forty, I wish for you:

• a day spent in pure indulgence and delight;
• the discovery of a special giftedness you never knew you had;
• many magical afternoons spent in deep conversation with friends;
• a moment of brilliant clarity about your unique place in the world;
• sound advice from an admire mentor;
• a summer walk in the sunshine that fills your soul with hope;
• the inspiration to write brilliant things;
• deeper connectedness with God than you've ever known;
• a brief glimpse into the way you impact those around you;
• many moments when you are confident that you are a good mom;
• an appreciation and acceptance of the mystery of life;
• the creation of a new recipe you can share with friends;
• answers to some of your questions;
• time to pursue your artistic interest;
• the blossoming of a new friendship;
• the assurance that you are where you belong;
• at least one "eureka" moment when you know what you must do;
• peace about a tough decision;
• the ability to forgive a past wrong;
• the freedom to be completely yourself; and
• the realization of a dream you'd almost forgotten you had.

Although this is less specific than the list I've been working on, it's nice to see so many of my hopes mirrored in the words of another.

My sisters hosted a birthday party for me at Yvonne's on Saturday night... family and adopted family. I felt so honoured and so given to. Yvonne gave me a wonderful little book in which almost everyone wrote.

I woke up in the middle of the night (cursing the drunk people at Club St. B) and all of a sudden I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I've been given more than my share, like I didn't deserve it, like I wasn't worthy. I don't usually struggle with feeling guilty or shamed or inadequate... not that I think I'm so great or anything... I just think, well, this is me and that's all there is. Sure I am inadequte to be a brain surgeon, (or a housekeeper) but I can fulfil the unique place I have in this world. So it was strange to feel that way. I couldn't quite sort out the why.

Maybe it will come to me by the time I'm forty.