Life's Serendipities

ser·en·dip·i·ty  n. pl. ser·en·dip·i·ties

1.The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident.

2. The fact or occurrence of such discoveries.

3. An instance of making such a discovery.

Today in the Netherlands it is Sinterklaasdag, 5 December.  It's the traditional day for the Dutch to do their gift-giving for the Christmas season (in spite of American influences seeping in to augment gifts on Christmas day).  Think Santa Claus and presents.  Today.

Two years ago today (though it was a Saturday then), I moved to the Netherlands from America to begin a new life with the Dutch woman I married two months later.  It was totally coincidental that the day I arrived was Sinterklaasdag.  We didn't plan it that way.  But every year since then, Astrid and I will celebrate this day as our biggest and best gift to each other.

That's serendipity.  And, YES, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!

I have always loved serendipitous moments.  They may be more rare than "normal," but maybe that's what makes them so "fortunate" and "by accident."

This past September, when we spent a few days in England with friends (and met CherryPie, remember?), we had another serendipitous moment that still drops my jaw to the ground.  As we strolled by the Royal Crescent in Bath, I looked up to see the entablature above the columns and stopped dead in my tracks.

There they were, just as plain as day.  From the entire length of the Crescent, a row of 30 houses with entablatures above, these were the two we just happened to see:  a heart (Hart) and a windmill side-by-side.  In Bath, England, of all places.

That's serendipity.

Of all the gifts I've ever received in my lifetime, these rank up there at the top.  They "just happened" by accident.  Most fortunate because they didn't cost a cent and I'll never forget them!

If you believe in Santa Claus, I'm sure you have your own serendipitous memories.  Feel free to share them here...and then store them up as the gifts that can never be lost or taken away from you.

And let's keep our eyes open.  You never know when a "by accident" is just waiting to happen!

Home Sweet Home

[One of my favorite houses near where I live in The Netherlands.]

On the heels of my last post, A Stitch in Time, I'm dying to give you a follow-up...you who went before me and prepared the way for my trip to the family cottage in Michigan, alone without Astrid.  THANK YOU.

There and back again, with a smile on my face.  Why, you ask?  Because something happened to me.  I was more ME with my family than I can ever recall.  I was comfortable in my own skin.  I was not shame-based (as so often happens to us in the gay community).  And because I'm in the best place and time of my life, I was 'at home' with me, myself and I.

That translated into my reaching out to each of my 5 siblings present, as well as to several of their kids, the Cousins.  I was intentional about it:  "Tell me how you're doing and what's happening in your life!"  And because most people like to talk about themselves, they did.  One on one, in the lake, on the grassy shore, in the cottage, on the deck or the screened-in porch, over 3 days of the holiday weekend, I caught up 30-45 minutes at a time.  Filling in all the cracks.  Catching up on the stories.  THEIR stories.

Interestingly, no one in return asked the same of me.  A couple mentioned it was too bad Astrid couldn't be there.  But it was okay.  For some reason, this time I didn't need them to catch up on me.  I needed to catch up on them and let them know I cared.  Quality, intentional, uninterrupted, focused time.

A stitch in time with my family.  I was the one doing the mending and it felt good and right.  Next time, Astrid will be with me (the plan is for next May during cottage workday) and THEN it will be my time.  Our time.  THEN it will be their turn to catch up on me/us.

I didn't expect it would happen like this.  That I would be selfless.  That I would NOT be worried about what they were thinking of me.  Here I am, living on the other side of the world with a Dutch woman they have never met (most of them).  I didn't give a hoot.  I only cared about them.

As I drove my turn in the dark of night back to Atlanta, I mulled over the gracious comments you had sent beforehand, wishing me god-speed.  I marveled over the effectual mindfulness we have for one another in our hour of need.  Thank you.

You know how we say "Home is where the heart is."  In the same breath we might also add "I left my heart in San Francisco."  Even though I missed Astrid terribly and have no intention to ever make this trip again without her, I did not leave my heart in The Netherlands when I left her...nor in Michigan when I left my family.  I realized, perhaps for the first time, that my heart, which is here inside me, is my home.  As long as I am true to my heart, I am 'at home.'

There's no other Home Sweet Home as good as that.  My heart, my home.  But still, as daughter Amy says, coming home is always the best part of going away!  There's no place like home.  There's no place like home.