Healing in Motion

My uprooting was not casual. It was the bold, trembling decision to stop delaying the things I secretly dreamed of but was almost too shy to pray for. Less than six months before clearing out my apartment and deciding what still belonged in my life as a domestic violence surviving widow, I told my father the plan. I had just returned from Gabon for my grandmother’s burial, and something shifted. I told him that in fourteen months, I would quit my job and uproot my life back

After loss, joy can feel like a visitor that may not stay long. For years, that is the belief that drove me. I was careful not to laugh too loud, dream too big, or ask for too much. I was afraid joy would leave. Then I started finding myself alone on travels, yet somehow surrounded, by joy, by love, by life happening in the most surprising ways. Joy I never had to beg for found me. I did not have to whisper so it would not flee.