Pinch me. I'm going to Rome. Rome! As in, the Eternal City... Audry Hepburn's holiday locale of choice... the Pope's hood... The cultural and spiritual center of the Church. And I'm going with the two men who are most dear to me on earth to witness the beatification of one of the men who is most dear to me in all of Heaven - John Paul the Great.
Seriously God, stop it. But don't really. It's just that, well, over the past year or so of life, He's granted each and every desire of my heart, from the seemingly piddling (a tropical honeymoon) to the profound (marriage to the man of my dreams followed swiftly by the birth of our firstborn son)... and I'm starting to get kinda nervous. Because, you know, things are so good right now that it's almost, well, too good.
As I was glancing nervously over my shoulder this afternoon, wondering whether my own mortality was creeping up behind me ready to pounce, my wiser (and far holier) husband pointed out an alternate - and far less morbid - possibility.
"Jenny, you know, we're living His plan now. This is what happens when you surrender control."
I kinda prefer that to thinking I must be approaching imminent death and therefore God, like some kind of benevolent administrator at the Make a Wish foundation, is lining up all my chips so that I can, you know, cash out happy.
But if my husband is right and if this life, this glorious, complicated, unpredictable and highly enjoyable life is really what His plans for us look like... then damn, I wish I'd vacated the driver's seat years ago. But, c'est la vie. Or should I say ... questa è la vita.