My closest people know how I feel about summertime. It’s too hot, too muggy, too uncomfortable. Weather aside, summer has been an emotionally difficult season for me. The past few years were marked by transition — into U of I, out of U of I, into DePaul, out of DePaul, into real estate and out of journalism. Through everything, I battled with food, a struggle I used to write about quite often but have decidedly kept under wraps.
This summer was different. It takes time to build a life, and after three years in the city, I can finally call it my home. I’ve established deep, meaningful relationships — friends that I can be myself with. My career has become stable and steady, and I find joy in the day-to-day responsibilities. But most of all, I am learning to trust God with each and every area of my life, rather than letting my circumstances control me. I still struggle — as we all do — but I’ve gained more big-picture perspective than ever before.
I have also gotten to have fun. Real, authentic, careless fun. I scroll through my iPhone camera roll and smile at the memories:
Celebrating birthdays. Pink sunsets. Sailing. 2 Timothy. Cubs games. Wine on rooftops. Wine on patios. Wine on couches. Visits to Hinsdale. A weekend in NYC. Beach baptisms. Pool hangs. Farmers markets. Spectacular skyline views. A softball game. Windows-down drives. Too many trips to RH. Walks.
Now, Labor Day is here, the historic farewell to summer. I am honestly sad to see the season go. I feel far from my eating entanglements and close to those in my life. It’s been a very sweet three months, and my prayer is that fall will follow in the same pattern.