04/26/2025
There was a time I couldn’t enjoy moments like this.
Not because they weren’t happening, but because I was too busy calculating—how much time we had, what I could afford, whether I was doing enough. Even laughter felt like a luxury I hadn’t earned yet.
But something’s shifted.
Star and I stopped for ice cream after dinner. It’s our favorite little shoppe, and we both know exactly what we want. We decide to wait until we’re home to eat it—only she can’t quite wait. I ask her to hold off so we can share the experience together. So she starts stirring hers, slowly and methodically, just to keep busy.
That’s when it started. Every light turned red. Cars pulled out in front of us. People wanted to cross. The entire ride home became this hilarious, stop-and-go symphony of spiritual timing. And I couldn’t stop laughing. I snickered, giggled, wheezed, and then full-on bellowed with laughter.
Star kept stirring her ice cream, and the more delayed we were, the more dramatic her anticipation became. She said she didn’t understand why I was laughing so hard—but she loved it. My joy became contagious.
And I realized—this isn’t just a funny memory. It’s a reflection of how I’m healing.
Not just in meditation or during deep inner work, but in traffic. With my child. In moments that used to feel stressful or too short or not enough.
I honored my desire for connection. I let joy build instead of rushing it. I received Spirit’s humor as a gift. My laughter wasn’t just about traffic—it was my soul saying: I’m here. I’m free. I’m with my child in this moment.
We’re still living with limits, sure. But they don’t hold me the same way. My life feels abundant. My joy feels rooted. This is what healing looks like when it becomes real—when it shows up in the car, between bites of ice cream.
“In a world that encourages misery, love and joy are acts of defiance.” - Pam Gregory
