A simply abundant world awaits.

— Sarah Ban Breathnach

Bobby was my first friend in New York.

We didn’t so much become friends as he claimed me.  We bonded over parents who were successful in their respective fields.

“So, we have something in common,” he said to me in the hallway of our office.  And that was that.  We were friends.

Years later, I went to a small dinner party thrown at his new apartment with his new wife.  It was a time of newness for all of us at the dinner.  Me, I’d just bought an apartment.  As a new homeowner I had very new expenses, coupled with a very newly depleted bank account.  It was one of times where I didn’t know if I would have enough money to make it through the week until my next paycheck.

It was the first time in my life I’d been worried about having enough to eat. Determined not to have to go to my parents—who to this day would give me anything that I needed—I decided that somehow I’d figure out take care of myself.

For the dinner party Bobby’s wife—a diminutively sweet and nurturing, but no pushover—made an abundance of delicious food.  It was the kind of meal that made me feel as comforted as if I’d been with my own family, and as if I’d known her for ages.  She made so much that they sent us all home with a bag of to-go containers.

Looking out of the window on the bus on my way home, exhausted from laughing with my friends and slouched in my seat from being so full, I sat up with a start.  I suddenly realized that I’d spent the last few days worrying about money and food and whether or not I’d have enough—and there next to me was a bag full of lovingly prepared food that would last me the better part of a week.  They’d given me their abundance as an offering of friendship.

I sat on the dirty city bus deeply moved, brushing away the tears running down my face.

It was the very first time that I understood the power of trusting that there is enough.

But I forget.  So often, if you are like me, it just seems there isn’t enough.  Enough time.  Enough daylight.  Enough sleep.  Enough food.  It can be exhausting, all this worry of lack.

I was reminded about that ride on the bus as I read my mail earlier this week.

Fresh off a night of sleep, I scrolled through my emails, as I do every morning before getting on with the daily ritual of going to work.  I subscribe to a few inspirational newsletters that are sent out in the pre-dawn hours and I read them while I’m still in that state between sleep and wakefulness.  It starts my day with words of wisdom.  On this morning, multiple emails, one after the other, had a similar message: life is all about love.  It is everywhere, in everything, and as one so eloquently said, we “are bathed in it.”

I thought about this as I was walking out the door, about to begin my working day. Then I sighed and said to no one, if love is everywhere, then can I feel it?  Can I really FEEL it?  Can I feel the love?

And then I went off to my day.

Two interactions stood out in my mind that day.

The barista in Starbucks who made my drink, different than usual, called my name and said, “You didn’t want the sugar-free vanilla?”  I’m always surprised when people remember me, and she remembered something that I’d ordered the week before.  It touched me.

An old friend said that I’d inspired her to do something pretty awesome.  Hearing that someone was inspired by me was humbling.

These were small moments where I felt seen.  Perhaps that was enough.  Perhaps that was the love.

The next day, I came home from a long day at work, checked my mail and saw a card with no return address—usually a telltale sign of junk mail.  The handwriting looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite make it out.  I turned the envelope over and saw this sticker.

You are Beautiful

It stopped me, and immediately I felt happier.  Whether it was junk mail or not, it made me smile.

I went into my apartment and I opened the card.  It was from my aunt.   She wrote to say she was thinking of me and of what a wonderful woman I was. And, she wanted to tell me that she loved me.

There it was.  There was the love.

I sat on my sofa floored, moved, in awe.  I asked, and I received.  And I felt it, deeply.

The world is an abundantly beautiful place.

Maybe there is abundance just waiting for us to be open, to be the vessel to receive it, I thought.  Maybe there really is enough.