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Yesterday evening, on my way home from San Francisco, I picked up Chinese food for dinner. My fortune, which is still laying on the dining room table read: “Linger over dinner discussions this week for needed advice.” While sometimes I feel like I get fewer fortunes and more cliche words of wisdom (once I even got “Eat more vegetables,” of all things!), whatever is written on this slip of paper has, never the less, already proven true.

One thing my husband and I always do when we’re both home in the evenings is have dinner together. Last night we laughed when I read my fortune because he had just finished giving me some advice about a particular endeavor, after I relayed my wonderful afternoon in San Francisco with the salon of women writers. What followed today, Monday, was a very hard day in the “real world,” as I shall call it; it took every ounce of self-control not to make some very rash decisions. Tonight, over dinner, my husband and I discussed my predicament, and once again he offered me needed advice…along with practical resources, emotional tools, and the freedom to make whatever choice is right for me. How could the fortune know that not only would I need advice but I would have the perfect person to give it to me? Yesterday I learned the word, beshert. “It’s Hebrew for soul mate,” my professor told me, “and I think you’ve found yours.” She’s right.

All these musings to say that I’m emotionally tired, with lots of advice and big decisions to consider, and not fit for much more than making a cup of tea and flipping through the latest Book Passage newsletter which arrived in the mail this week and listening to an book with my beshert.

Fortune

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