A place for everything and everything in its place.

Something has changed.

A momentum shift, a right and proper turn, a window opening - just enough - to let the fresh air clear the cobwebs from my mind. An inner strength, a letting go, an ebbing tide; a ray of sunlight splayed across the floor, chasing the shadows away.

Something.

This past week, I couldn't escape the feeling that I was staring at a fork in the road. Even though there wasn't any one thing in particular requiring a decision on my part, there were choices to make.

So I chose.

And something changed.

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Whether you are careening along its course at the speed of youth, or enjoying its passage at a more leisurely rate, crossroads are the speed bumps of life.

I'm of the opinion that we slow to their caution, in one way or another, more than we may acknowledge. Because irrespective of significance, we all make choices that affect the direction we take in life on a daily basis.

There have definitely been a series of 'larger than present time' crossroad moments in my life; the big, bold, neon red ones I can point to with clarity as being the decision points having the most dramatic long term impact. And there have been less flashy ones, where the choices were no less important, but much less altering.

I've written about many of them before: Getting pregnant as a college freshman. My dad's life threatening health situations. Uprooting our young family and moving away from home.

But by far the most extreme and vital U-turn in my life, leading me to discover the breathtaking side roads I'd missed or avoided the first time around, was getting well.

Getting well lifted a fog from my entire being that enabled me to really see where I was going for the first time in a long time. To comprehend that it was actually me behind the wheel. It was me who yielded to the world around me, waiting for someone to stop and let me merge. Waiting for someone else to let me start Living.

I started to fully understand the power of my own attitude. Getting well opened my eyes to how my presence affected the Life that went on around me. Helped me realize that it wasn't, actually, going on around me; it was going on without me.

There are days when I am so pissed off, I cry; nights when I am hurt, and can't. There is stress, there is grief, there is sadness. There are blues that seep into my marrow and want to breed there. There are moments of doubt, ignorance, confusion.

The difference is that now each of these things has a place to rest. The difference is that now each of these things has no place to hide. The difference is that now all of these things are no longer scary.

The difference is that now, I choose to have a little faith in Me.

I take in the bad or the difficult and know that my response to them is normal; expected and real. I take them in and know that getting through them, eventually, is not something to be ashamed of, that moving forward doesn't have to mean abandoning. Or forgetting.

Reaching that singular crossroad all those years ago meant facing the single most significant turning point in my life. I don't think I'll ever come to the end of its path, in fact. I'm still facing twists and curves along it today. And despite everything that remains to be seen, I can't imagine there ever being a more important choice of direction in my future.

Because the choice I made then gave me the gift of the life I lead now. My pleasure in the small things, my willingness to be happy. My active participation. My capable, confident, grateful self.

The self who believes she can deal with whatever comes, as it comes, and emerge stronger for having faced it.

The self whose heart knows it has to give everything and expect nothing.

The self whose mind can't stop reaching, growing, wanting, appreciating.

And above all, the self whose soul trusts it has everything it needs.

The work of the day being over, I say down upon my doorstep, pipe in hand, to rest awhile in the cool of the evening.

1. Today's first line title are words written in 1900 by Mary Johnston to open her novel To Have and to Hold.

2. It's funny; whenever I go scouring for a first line title, I rarely have a subject or specific content in mind. And yet, the words always seem to fit the mood, or the message, or the over-arching theme of the thirteen listed items that come after.

3. This week has been a spectacular blur, full of busy activity that has little bearing on fulfilling the actual purpose of my job title but much to offer in terms of fulfilling the satisfying purpose of my life. It's a rare and magical thing when those two worlds - work and inner self - can collide so magnificently. I'm learning to take the time to appreciate them when they do.

4. Maybe it's an age thing, this newfound appreciation gained through the perspective of years lived as marked by graying hair and wrinkles around the eyes. Maybe it's even less complicated than that.

5. We bought a new stove and microwave last night. My inner chef is beside herself with excitement. It's a flat top cook surface model in stainless and black, fancy with features like turbo boil and a convection oven. I've never owned a brand new stove, but have high hopes for the right tools for the job resulting in marked improvement in my cooking skills.

6. It's being delivered tomorrow, and once installed will mark part 13/16ths (approximately) of my four years long kitchen face lift project. It started with stripping wallpaper and painting walls and will end with the purchase of a brand spanking new refrigerator sometime between now and the end of time. In between there has been new flooring, a new table and chairs, a new sink, a new disposal, a new dishwasher and sundry accessories. By the time the refrigerator finishes off the project, it will be time to paint again. And so it goes.

7. David Cook, baby. Mmm-mmm-mmm. C'mon, Idol voters. My pick has to win this thing ONCE before the show goes off the air/dies a slow ratings death. Archuleta's gotta go DOWN.

8. Speaking of voters...West Virginia's are a stubborn bunch, aren't they? They loved, loved, loved Bill Clinton in the early nineties, and while I thought the general consensus of the state's population had turned on the Clinton Collective by the time they left office, resulting in the state's electorate going for Bush in 2000, apparently memories are rather short. Because they love, love, love Bill Clinton some more. True fact: most Hillary voters I spoke to in the state leading up to the primary invariably got in an "I always just loved that Bill" comment somewhere in the conversation.

9. I learned more true facts about my home state during the primary coverage. Some facts I wish I could unlearn, and others that just depress the hell out of me. For example: the state is ranked 50th in the nation in average household income, 48th in the percentage of adults with a high school diploma, and is home to the oldest population in the nation, with a median age of 38.9 years. The largest employer in the state is Wal-Mart. Seriously? That blows my mind. Used to be coal companies, chemical companies, state government, healthcare, tourism. Now it's Wal-Mart?

10. There is a whole community of uprooted West Virginians who dream about, or at least wax poetically about, returning "home" someday, and I'm a card-carrying member. It's a beautiful place with big hearted people. But the aversion to change and the inability to adapt to the new world economy are real barriers to making that pilgrimage possible.

11. In happier news, I posted some random new photos over there in the sidebar.

12. People tend to tell me their stories. People I don't know from Adam, complete strangers I'll likely never meet again, will unpack their life stories and put them in my lap at the slightest provocation, in the strangest of places. It happens all the time. I've never really understood this phenomenon, and it can unnerve and delight me in equal measure. Depending on the day. Or the story.

13. I get to wear jeans and tennis shoes tomorrow. I get to eat barbecue at noon and work on a Habitat project at one and come home to cook dinner on a brand spankin' newly delivered stove by six. And by eight or so, I get to snuggle on the sofa with my honey and an ice cold beer, and daydream about sleeping late on Saturday.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I love you, tomorrow. You're only a day away.

"You're a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie. What would you be doing if you weren't out making yourself a better citizen?"

Jazmeen is her name, and she wears dozens of wooden beads in her braids. I can hear her coming, can make her out from the rest of the swarm of kids getting off the bus after a full day cooped up in school by the sound of her giggling accompanied by the percussion section on her head.

She hates math. Hates it. So, naturally, it's the first thing we do when she settles down at the table and unpacks her homework. Truth be told, I hate math, too, and even her third grade worksheets with their fractions and their metrics have the power to humble my otherwise brilliant mind.

She's a distractable kid, up and down, all around, everywhere but where she needs to be to get the work finished, and still, somehow, we manage it. We hover over the work with twin furrowed brows until the very last problem - the worst of all of them - is figured out. Her face breaks out in a "wow, would you look at that" grin of near disbelief and we high five across the table. I clean up after her and repack her book bag while she runs off to get her well-earned juice and pretzels.

"Can we go outside?" she asks, tugging at my leg. I'm wearing heels today and I have the beginnings of a massive headache, but I can't say no. It's less that she won't take no for an answer; it's more that I can't bring myself to give no for one. She grabs a basketball out of the center's office and we sneak out the side door, headed down to the basketball court.

Six or seven older boys are there before us, but Jaz is undaunted. I kick my shoes off and dribble the ball a few times, trying to get my (long lost) rhythm. One of the boys laughs, and I can't swear it, but I imagine he's laughing at me, so I turn to my left, set my feet, and...swish. No more laughing. But plenty of screams, because Jazmeen is laughing herself silly at the sight of me standing barefoot on the concrete court, hoopin'.

She shoots a few times, but mostly talks circles around me. About her baby brother. About the time she went to China with her dad (okay, not really, but we did go to the beach!). About how she moved here from New York (that's why I have a good voice and you sound like you're from the country!) but she doesn't remember living there because she was just a little thing. About how she wants to be a cheerleader like her big brother's girlfriend (they went to the prom on my birthday night and she wore a green dress and I don't know why he wouldn't get her a limo like she deserved for being so pretty). About everything and anything.

Out of nowhere, she turns her back to me and yells "Catch me!", and I can tell you this much: I'm lucky I had half a wit about me or she'd have cracked her head open on the asphalt right there in that split second. I freak a mini-freak and she finds me hilarious. In the end, we both end up laughing, and when it's time to go in, she grabs my hand and pirouettes in circles around me all the way to the door.

I slip my shoes back on, saying, "Girl, you wore me out today." I wink at her. "See you in two weeks."

She slips her arms around my neck, puts her mouth right up to my ear and whispers, "Promise?"

I pull back so I can look her in the eye.

"Promise."

She smiles and runs off, tossing me a wave over her shoulder.