Present Over Perfect

Today I was craving garlic and tomatoes, so in between
the scribbling of sentences, I melted several cloves of garlic
and a couple handfuls of halved grape tomatoes into oil
over low heat on the stove. The sharp garlic smell filled the
house and then began to mellow, as the tomatoes slipped
out of their skins, blistered, softened. A steaming bowl of
those melted, fragrant tomatoes and garlic were just the
thing for the starkness of the day, the severe chill.
My task for the day: to find the words to leave you with,
to wrap my mind and heart and letters and words around the
last three and whatever years, and tell you something about
it all.
This is what I want to tell you: it’s better here, here in the
place of love. This journey has brought about a meaningful
transformation in every single part of my life. Every single
part. My prayer life, my marriage, my family life, my
friendships. I enjoy my work more. I feel a deep well of
gratitude, a clean and grateful desire to live a life of
meaning. I have the energy to live well, to dedicate myself
to the things that matter to me, and that God has called me
to. I have the security to truly rest, to truly enjoy this
extraordinary world and all its offerings—books and art and
meals and people and conversations and cities and beaches
and night skies. And while I am deeply appreciative of the
charms of this glittering world, I feel a sense of patience
where I used to feel slight anxiety about the beauty of it: will
I see it all? What if I miss something?
In the space that used to be filled with a whirring ball of