Better? I don’t know; but it sure is good.

I am full of soup and songs and conversations that reach all the way from my heart to another’s.

I am, in a word: full.

I don’t quite know how to put it, really, but one thing that has astounded me this past year is the proven ability of the heart to expand and grow with each new person you meet; that somewhere between the time you said hello after learning each others’ first names, and the time you found yourselves chopping vegetables and singing songs together on the first day of a brand spankin’ new year in West Philly, your heart grew a whole person bigger. Cause, look now! this person who, six months ago you didn’t even know existed, is presently snugly in your heart.

How can this be?

Miracles are all around us; but mostly, miracles are within us, I think.

“What are you doing tonight?” asked my pop, after a little family lunch and before they were dropping me off at a hotel in Philly, since I have rehearsal here early in the morning.

“My friend is picking me up and taking me back to his place to make dinner for me.”

“Seriously, Jess?” pop asked, a little incredulously.

“Yep,” I said, smiling.

“You have such a good life,” he said with his usual enthusiasm. “I mean, way better than a lot of married people I know…”

Which made me laugh. And bless him for saying so. I don’t know if it’s better or worse, necessarily–my life, I mean; those two words are rather arbitrary by nature, and therefore I tend to steer clear.

Better.

Worse.

Unless, of course, we’re talking about things that are clearly better–like peanut butter–or clearly worse–like basically any caffeinated soda.

And judging from the amount of you who surely disagree with me, I am pretty sure I just proved my point concerning the arbitrary nature of the terms better and worse.

But, last night I–along with another new friend–made it to Lancaster just in time to see fireworks remind us that Something Big Is Happening. 2012 looked like explosions in the sky, shedding light on all the girls in dresses that appeared to be just a little bit more comfortable than the high heels that caused them to stagger more than walk from here to there.

I looked down at my boots and my bright yellow jeans and felt like life and I were pretty good friends right about now.

I got a feeling that gives a nod to what my pop said, actually: life is so good.

Which is how I felt while singing and talking and ladling spoonfuls of fresh-made french onion soup into my mouth with my friend on his porch tonight. Like maybe life is about this: harmonizing to Hallelujah with each other in the cool evening air. Listening as we describe the shape of our heart, respectively, after it’s been nicked and dented and broken and subsequently become bigger and softer and more alive than ever before. “What are you again?” he asks, referring to the direction of my faith. “Oh–Christian,” I say, knowing that the nod he gives me is one of acceptance and even affirmation of who I am.

“I grew up Catholic…but you know, I’m not now. Not at all,” he says, nonchalantly.

And now it’s my turn to nod. And there’s gentleness in the air. The feeling you get when you hold a baby is between us. Soft movements. Nurturing sounds. Holding up, holding close, knowing that whoever it is with whom you’re doing this kind of holding–well, they will change and grow and this needs to be okay. Needs to happen, actually.

And yes, life is good. And I don’t always feel this way in such strong vibrant strokes as I do tonight, true; but I believe it and what we believe seems to have this amazing knack for shaping and changing the world around us. After, of course, it has shaped and changed the world within us, is the thing.

Here’s to a whole new year’s full of ‘life is good!’ moments.