Returning to Me Again

I am sitting outside at my favorite lakeside coffee shop this morning, breathing in the breeze off the lake, and “returning.”

These past nine months have been a devotion -- mainly, to preparing for and receiving a new life in our family.

My oldest daughter got pregnant, and we lovingly tended to all the things that come before a baby—creating a space for her in their home, planning and hosting a baby shower, anticipating her arrival. And then, on July 5, we welcomed this new little being of light into the world, and I transitioned into being a first-time grandmother.

All of my heart has been there.

Sitting and rocking the baby, watching with wonder as she made little O’s with her mouth. Watching those teensy fingers stretch and curl. Seeing her notice her own hand for the first time and just STARE at it. Talking to her and, one day, watching her turn toward my face with recognition.

It has truly been a time of miracles. Of openheartedness. Of challenge. (Oh yes, now I remember that feeling of trying 10 different ways to soothe a fussy baby when you yourself are tired.)

I could go on for pages and pages about all of this…but that’s not why we are here.

We are here because I am finally sitting outside at Mozart’s coffee shop and coming home to ME again. Returning to my center after willingly, devotedly orbiting around the love of this new little family.

And as I sit here, I feel an opening.

I’m savoring the cool air on the outdoor deck, the quiet as I’m only the second customer other than a state trooper with an early morning Danish. Savoring the way the lake is a warm orangey blue as the sun rises. Listening to water birds honking and watching a boat unmoor and push off from the marina. Savoring life opening again after the portal of baby.

I can feel the tides shifting. This “yes, and…”

Yes to my daughter and granddaughter and all the challenges and miracles awaiting us. And yes to me—to the percolating of my own desires, to the opening of new life within me, too. To possibilities I don't even know yet.

Yes to life.

We all go through seasons when our lives become other-focused—grandchildren, caregiving, illness, family, work, travel, any number of things. Sometimes we choose these seasons, excitedly leaping into them. Sometimes we find ourselves in them without having chosen them at all.

I chose my level of devotion to this past season. I wanted to be there, to be present for every moment of it.

And now I find myself wondering: What else wants my attention now? What desires are beginning to rise again? What might be possible in this next season?

I don't have the answers yet. I think that's part of the beauty of it.

For now, I am listening. I am savoring.

I am returning.