Life, Love, and the Courage to Keep Becoming

There are seasons in life when everything you thought you understood starts to shift—quietly at first, then all at once. Lately, I’ve been leaning into that shift with wide-open curiosity. I’ve been reading more, listening more, learning more… not because anything is missing, but because something inside me feels ready. Ready to understand life in new ways. Ready to grow. Ready to see what else my heart has room for.

I’ve been a fan of Will Bulsiewicz, MD, for years, and listening to him on The Rich Roll Podcast this week moved me in ways I didn’t expect. Near the end, he spoke about being estranged from his father for ten years and the beauty of their reconnection. It hit me hard—not in a painful way, but in a way that reminded me how life can wound us deeply and still be overwhelmingly good.

Because I know that feeling too.

As I shared in a previous blog post, I had my own nine-month estrangement from my children. It was one of the darkest chapters of my life, yet the moment we came back together, none of the explanations or apologies mattered. What mattered was the love—whole, unconditional, and unshakeable. And somehow, that love didn’t just return… it deepened. Sometimes the things we fear will break us, simply crack us open to a fuller kind of living.

And then, twenty-one months ago, the universe sent me the brightest reminder of all:

My sweet granddaughter.

She is the essence of everything good—wild, hilarious, wise, adventurous, and so full of life that the world feels softer just because she exists. Her joy doesn’t argue with darkness; it simply outshines it. She is my proof that the breath of life, the soul of a child, the spark that science cannot explain… It’s real. It’s holy. And it is love, incarnate.

This weekend, I get to see her—to scoop her up at Cape San Blas, to kiss those cheeks, to let the waves crash while she toddles in and out of my shadow. I’ll be with my daughter, my wonderful son-in-law (who I genuinely feel is “mine” in every way - best son-in-law, best daddy to my granddaughter, and best husband to my daughter), and his parents, whom I adore as well. And even though my son and his girlfriend can’t join us because Rue isn’t well, we already have plans to dine at Honeysuckle Rose the evening after I return. Life keeps offering beautiful moments—different ones, perhaps, but lovely all the same.

And in a few weeks, I’ll be in Italy.

My second solo European adventure.

Something the “old me” never would have believed possible.

I am proud of myself—deeply, exquisitely proud. Because while I do sometimes miss waking up next to someone, or cooking for someone, or taking care of someone I love, I’m not ready to give my heart away again. Not yet. Instead, I’m learning. I’m exploring. I’m asking questions that lead to more questions, and loving the way curiosity keeps me young.

And perhaps that’s part of the point.

For a couple of years, I was with someone whose love came with judgment, manipulation, and scrutiny—from him and from his family. I ignored it because I cared so deeply, but looking back, I can see how much peace it cost me. How much joy it quietly drained. That kind of love asks you to shrink. The right kind of love never will.

And so here I am—living, learning, loving myself, and letting life be wondrous again.

What I know for sure is this:

• We are always worthy of being chosen.

• Some people leave us for a season; some for good—but our worth remains untouched.

• Adventure keeps the heart adventurous.

• Curiosity keeps the mind young.

• Unconditional love—given and received—is the deepest form of healing.

• And the life meant for us will never require us to abandon ourselves.

I don’t know exactly where this chapter is leading me, but I know it’s leading somewhere beautiful. Because every day I choose to stay open—open to joy, open to growth, open to miracles I don’t even see coming.

And if my granddaughter ever reads this one day, I hope she feels it in her bones:

You are worthy.

You are loved.

You are allowed to change, to explore, to begin again.

And you never, ever have to shrink to be chosen.

Here’s to staying curious, staying young, staying open, and trusting that what is meant for us will always find us—often in ways we could never imagine.

— Honey 🐝

P.S.

There is a kind of love we never have to beg for

the kind that arrives with open arms

and stays without being chased.

If someone drifts from our life, we can loosen our grip,

trusting that what is meant for us

will never need to be held so tightly that it hurts.

They say if you love someone, let them go…

and I’ve learned that letting go is not loss—

it is faith.

Because if they are meant to be ours,

they will find their way home in their own time.

And if they don’t,

our lives will open in ways we could have never imagined

while we were busy trying to hold onto what was never ours to keep.

Life has its own timing, its own wisdom,

its own quiet, divine choreography.

So we wait—not passively, but beautifully—

filling the in-between with joy, curiosity,

adventure, laughter, wandering, learning,

and the kind of self-love that makes every next chapter sweeter.

Because what is meant for us

will always arrive right on time.

And until then…

we get to live. 💛