Gift of Sundays

I am sitting here writing during one of my last lazy Sundays at the cabin of healing.  Yesterday, I watched as a family of three deer ran across the pasture, fleeing my presence.  Moments later, I heard a soft mewing of a fawn standing, swaying really, on its spindly legs.  Fawn was crying piteously for its lost family of three, and aware of my presence and the danger therein, fled in the wrong way away from its family.  I worried, but I should know that nature is the greatest teacher for me.  Because lo and behold, today I see Mom and Fawn and the rest of the family grazing across the pasture, reunited again. 

I am leaving my family.  My family of blood, my family of work, my family of friends.  But for the first time in a very long time, I am being called forward towards the invisible constellation of my path as opposed to running from my presence.  I no longer stand spindly as a fawn, uncertain of my place in the world and needing external support.  Instead, I stand firmly within myself, grounded in my nature, ready to discover the gifts that this world has in store for me.  I will cry some tears this week as I say some difficult goodbyes.  But I trust that in one of my tomorrows, just like the fawn, I will be reunited with those I carry most fiercely in my heart.