This Pondering Heart

It’s about time I have my quarter life crisis. Oh yes, hello, twenty-five. I’ve lamented to some generous listeners in my life at how this number is hard for me to swallow. “You’re so young,” and “It’s just a number” are the most frequent responses. Still, somehow seven year-old Melissa thought she’d have a lot more figured out by the time she was 25. I should have at least one aspect of life in order, right? (She asks sitting under a heaping pile of laundry as the sixth episode in a row of Gilmore Girls plays on her four year old bug-infested computer and a pot of mac & cheese waits on the stove-top for dinner.) --------------------------- Fitzpatricks haven’t ever been big birthday people. I looked forward to them when I was younger, but even then I’m pretty sure my birthday excitement peaked at seven (only kidding, it probably lasted into my pre-teens). It’s something I now tolerate because it simply has to happen. So you can imagine how I was taken aback with one o...

Writing letters is my jam. I studied the - as some would say - dying art for my final undergrad comprehensive senior project ( The Greeting Card’s Survival in a Digital World, it was a fun topic). I’m a devoted letter writer and proudly (and consistently) have at least 3 people I correspond with via snail mail. I get giddy every time I open my 7 inch mailbox and find my name scrawled on a well-traveled envelope (on rough days you may even find me cracking a grin at junk mail). And I always, always have cardstock or some sort of stationary coupled with colorful envelopes on hand. There’s something about a letter; holding a piece of paper that someone else miles away held only days before, picturing how your penpal leaned over their kitchen counter in thought as their arm flew across the page and thoughts formulated in ink. Letters take time, sincere effort and carry a certain nostalgic only-seen-in-movies-and-books kind of charm. ---- One of my love languages is words o...

It’s been a heavy fall. This could be a side effect of the shifting seasons as winter looms in an all encompassing blanket of black (everything seems to be a shade darker this year) that encourages early evenings of hibernation. The spiritual drought I’m in likely has something to do with it too, as I go through the motions not feeling the warm Presence I'm used to. It’s probably partly a result of the jarring embrace of frosty air so cold it leaves a lonely, sharp ache that a boiling cup of tea can’t even thaw. These symptoms of a looming winter and broken exhaustion have encouraged darkness to easily seep into the crevices of my favorite season. ------ Head tilted to the side, eyes focused in little slits, nose scrunched ever-so-slightly, and a quick “uh-huh” with a nod up and down. I know this look well. I was the recipient of this look nine times out of ten as I word vomited an overcompensated explanation to why I wasn’t making the trek home for the long holiday...

I finished a marathon. 26.2 miles of running. It was hard (understatement of the year). But the journey, the people who got me through (and to t he starting line in the first place) made it more than just a run. ---- When my childhood bestie asked me to do a marathon with her, without hesitation I said yes. For those of you who don’t know Maria Timm, I’ll just say she’s persistent. She’s been asking me to run 26.2 (fun) miles with her for a couple of years. She talked me into 13.1, but I was convinced I’d never run the full sha-bang. But for some reason this time when she asked, I easily agreed. I like to believe it was God’s way of taking care of future me. His way of nudging and proving that, “with Him, all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). I couldn’t yet know the deep hurt, the gnawing ache, the consuming restlessness I would feel as my sunshiny summer came to a jolting hault. But He did. He knew how meaningful this ra...

One of the best parts of being human is the ability to feel. The range of emotions we’re capable of experiencing is such a beautiful gift from God. But in order to feel the extremes of some (or all) of these emotions, we’re called to fully embrace life and the opportunities we’re given. As an introvert, I haven’t always been the best with diving head first into anything new or unfamiliar. I’ve been okay playing the spunky sidekick best friend as I’ve lived vicariously through many of my pals’ relationships. I never minded handing over the box of tissues after a breakup or giving hugs (and lots of validation) after enduring a long argument with a significant other. But even as I watched comfortably from the sidelines (admittedly sometimes enviously), I knew my time would come. -------- As I’ve grown up and discovered more of who I am, I'm more mindful of what type of person I want to end up with. No, I don’t have a specific list (tall, dreamy eyes and a huge hea...

Everyone deserves to have those bursting-with-happiness memories. You know, the ones that leave you with a swollen heart and feeling #blessed. I’m lucky to have had many of those moments throughout my life, including this weekend. Aside from sharing a bit of my little getaway, I wanted to reassure you after my very dramatic post about the emotional challenges of living in the greater Boston area that I am taking care of myself and doing fun things (for those of you wondering, my mom has called me every day since). Although I absolutely struggle being away from my four favorite people (hi fam) on the daily, I am building a strong community that’s steadily turning into my New England extended family. I’m constantly in awe of the warmness and welcome so many people have granted me (a stranger) in these two years. There are many examples of generosity and just overall human goodness I could cornily describe, but I’ll save you some time. But because of these people I’ve unde...