When you realize that the story of your life could be told a thousand different ways, that you could tell it as a tragedy, but you choose to call it an epic, that’s when you start to learn what celebration is. –Shauna Niequist

It’s officially fall, which seems impossible because just last week (I’m pretty sure) I was writing my Just Here post about being stuck in the proverbial hallway of waiting for things to get better. Life wasn’t going as planned back then (turns out it was NOT last week; it was the beginning of May), but so much good has happened since then and now, life looks completely different.

It has me thinking about the seasons and rhythms of existing. How one day you can feel utterly defeated and the next day, spring back to life. How a seemingly awful situation can turn out to be a blessing in a way you never anticipated. And how times of feast are so much richer after times of famine.

I was recently reminded of a past relationship. It was (and still is) a rare occurrence to meet someone I was deeply curious about who I also felt a reciprocal connection with. Unfortunately, we lived on opposite coasts, and he was dating someone when we met, so became just friends. Years later, after reconnecting across the distance when we were both single, the spark was still there, and we finally started dating. But the relationship ended up being short lived – not because of anything inherently flawed about our connection, but due to the logistics of long-distance dating.

Having this relationship that spanned time and space but didn’t survive felt bittersweet. I found myself embracing the suck along with the beauty. I felt mildly heartbroken, let down, and yet also fully alive. He was the best guy I had ever dated – honest and mature, caring and communicative. He pursued me openly and made me feel special. But it couldn’t have worked because of where we were both literally and emotionally at the time.

Eventually the disappointment and heartbreak passed and looking back, I realize that it was part of living a life unafraid. To go after something that defied common sense. Of risking what could be for the prospect of something amazing.

Shauna Niequist wrote something about bittersweet in her book, Savor that describes this concept perfectly:

// Bittersweet is the practice of believing that we really do need both the bitter and the sweet, and that a life of nothing but sweetness rots both your teeth and your soul. Bitter is what makes us strong, what forces us to push through, what helps us earn the lines on our faces and the calluses on our hands. Sweet is nice enough, but bittersweet is beautiful, nuanced, full of depth and complexity. Bittersweet is courageous, gutsy, earthy.

The idea of bittersweet is changing the way I live, unraveling and reweaving the way I understand life. Bittersweet is the idea that in all things there is both something broken and something beautiful, that there is a sliver of lightness on even the darkest of nights, a shadow of hope in every heartbreak, and that rejoicing is no less rich when it contains a splinter of sadness. //

So, here’s to the heartbreak that is laced with hope. To the gratitude that leads to growth. And to the next opportunity to go after what I want and, once again, feel fully alive.