Reflections in Time

Reminiscing on an Overcast Day

As I sit here reading and sipping coffee in my in-laws' sunroom, I can't help but be transported back to my trip to Munich, Germany, in 2019. Perhaps it's the hazy, overcast weather, the sound of birds chirping in the lush green trees, or the calmness of enjoying coffee on the deck, but everything is reminding me of that little European trip to visit my childhood best friend. A trip that awakened and saved my life.

I know I sound overly dramatic, but it's true.

Coffee on the deck in Munich, Germany

Sometimes in life, we can become so zoomed in on the everyday mundane moments that we forget to step back and see it as a whole.

At the time, I was 24 and completely focused on achieving perfect grades at university so that I could get into a master’s program. I was also caught up in a situationship with someone I believed was “the one.” And I was feeling like I no longer fit into the church that had once felt like home. (Hint: I never did pursue a master’s degree, shortly after parting ways with that situationship I met my husband, and I left that church and have been deconstructing my faith ever since.)

I remember arriving in Europe to visit my best friend, Sarah, and immediately feeling a sense of freedom. It was as though all my senses were reawakened to the beauty of the world. I began to realize how much my squinting and dissecting of my grades, relationship status, beliefs, and place in a church made me miss out on all the goodness around me.

On the days when Sarah worked, I explored downtown Munich on my own, hopping onto public transit and ducking into coffee shops, museums, or cathedrals to escape the rain. A renewed sense of confidence, of independence, and okay-ness arose in me. I felt an inner peace that I hadn’t experienced in a while, even as I navigated a new country alone.

Theatine Church, Munich

With this fresh perspective, I began to truly notice my surroundings: people interacting, birds chirping, the way the sunlight would reflect through the cathedral's stained glass windows, and the intricate details of the architecture. More than that, I started to come to terms with everything going on in my life. I felt proud that my faith was evolving and that I stepped away from a community that no longer served me. I began realizing that I would meet the right person at the right time- I didn’t need to force anything. Additionally, I could clearly see that I was doing so much better than I thought I was in my post-secondary studies. Perfection wasn’t necessary. Living fully was.

The craziest part? None of this was the intention of the trip.

Honestly, when Sarah moved to Germany, driven by her sense of adventure and courage, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the place she was calling home. I also couldn’t ignore my desire to return to Europe for another amazing experience.

I never expected to rediscover myself or my purpose in life during this trip.

As I sit here in my in-laws’ sunroom, I’m reminded of these feelings and experiences. I’m 30 years old now, and easily consumed with other things: determining what career I’m passionate about, navigating a complicated falling out, attempting to find healing amongst health concerns, and wondering if I’ll be able to have kids given my health issues.

However, as I reflect on my past experiences in Munich, I am reminded to zoom out.

The very things that currently consume me are the things that are distracting me from all the beauty going on around me here and now. As I have embarked on yet another adventure, living in Ontario this summer, I begin to wonder if there’s a bigger purpose for this trip than I thought. Perhaps important shifts are happening in my mind and heart in a place I didn’t expect them to.

We all have some things we could unfurl our fingers from, some things we could zoom out on, take a step back from. These very things feel like all-encompassing- I get that. It’s so hard not to cycle through them in our minds in desperate attempts to fix, heal, and solve them. But honestly, there is so much life and goodness taking place around us- things that we are close to missing out on.

Maybe this place, this season, is here to gently teach us something- to remind us of what really matters. Maybe we don’t need to have it all figured out. Maybe it’s enough to simply notice and pay attention of the way the light spills through the window, the birds chirping in the background, the small joys tucked into ordinary days. There is beauty here, even in the tension of the in-between. We just have to zoom out long enough to see it.

Love,

Zoë Alexandra