Clinging

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

—Galatians 2:20

Food is my thing. What I eat and drink are little moments of joy throughout the day—the things I think about, plan around, daydream about. I love the moment when I open the menu at a restaurant or start prepping to make dinner or uncork the wine. On long writing days, those breaks for bread and cheese or leftover cold pasta or a slice of Emily’s poppy seed cake dipped into espresso are the little motivators that keep me writing.

But the very things you think you need most desperately are the things that can transform you the most profoundly when you finally release them. The college I had my heart set on, the boyfriend I believed would be my husband, the job that defined me, the pregnancy I believed would end a season of longing and loss. Each one, pulled from my grubby fists, taught me something fundamental about desire and transformation. Over and over, I learn the hard way that the thing I’m clinging to can be the thing that sets me free.