Call to Action
Every hero’s journey is launched by a call to action. During today’s 30-minute morning meditation, it came. Go to France.
Life and my writing halted during my father’s recent health crisis. I abandoned my dream of auditioning for the church musical, I shelved my book revisions, back-burnered my writing aspirations, and lamented the viability of my therapy practice.
I understand aging and death. I have no living grandparents or mother. But I hadn’t considered I might one day become an orphan. With that thought, I ushered in my 51st year of life. I pictured other fifty-oners blogging about things unique to our clan. I ceased creating and focused on being 51. I focused on dad.
I canceled all plans for travel, writer’s conferences, and visits to family and friends. I didn’t want to be more than an hour away from my father. I avoided commitments I couldn’t back out of at a moments notice. I stopped leisure spending, anticipating I may need to shut down my therapy practice to care-give, and every day, I told my father I loved him.
Then he left the hospital and went home. His speech cleared up. His walking got better. He laughed and told jokes again. His jokes were as corny as ever, and I guffawed like never before.
The previous year, Chalabra, France had been my creative fountain of youth. It’s the home of my songwriting mentor, Vinx and he was getting married. I loved my time in his tiny village, and fantasized about buying a villa of my own. But my father’s illness rendered such thoughts, ridiculous.
I was sure I needed to put everything on hold to be there for him. I was absolutely sure, until today. Maybe it was my father’s trip out of town last week that showed me, we all need to keep living until God decides we stop.
There is a difference between waiting for the end, and living each day like it’s my last. My father says live, see the world, write the book, take center stage, and drop by to see your Dear Ol’ Dad every now and then…If he’s home.
I booked my flight.
Do you have plans that are unnecessarily on hold? What would you do if this was your last year on the planet?