This morning I walked out of my bedroom, looked around my apartment… and smiled.

It actually caught me off guard because nothing huge had happened. I hadn’t won the lottery. I wasn’t suddenly pain-free. Nobody had waved a magic wand and made all of life’s problems disappear overnight. The reason I smiled was sitting right there in the middle of my living room… a fluffy purple rug.

Now before you start thinking, “Shelly has officially lost it over a rug,” hear me out.

That rug isn’t really about the rug.

When I was younger, I had my whole life planned out. By the time I reached my fifties, I was convinced I’d be living in a beautiful country home surrounded by horses, chickens, maybe a goat or two because apparently my younger self thought goats were a fantastic idea. I pictured laughter filling every room, family dinners around a big farmhouse table, a husband who adored me, and a life that looked like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. Everything was going to be perfect.

Boy… was I wrong.

Instead, here I am living in an apartment in the city. My days are much quieter than I ever imagined, and if someone had shown twenty-five-year-old Shelly a picture of my life today, she probably would have wondered where the farmhouse went. She might even have felt a little disappointed. Back then, I thought happiness had to look a certain way. What I didn’t understand was that life has a funny habit of rewriting our plans, and sometimes those rewrites end up teaching us exactly what we needed to learn.

That doesn’t mean there hasn’t been grief along the way. I’ve grieved the future I thought I was going to have. I’ve grieved relationships that meant the world to me. I still grieve the independence I used to have, when I could grab Frieda and head to the grocery store without giving it a second thought. Living with chronic pain changes more than your body. It changes routines, dreams, and sometimes even the way you see yourself. There are days I miss the old version of me. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with admitting that.

But here’s the thing I’ve been discovering lately…

While I was busy grieving the life I didn’t get, I almost missed the beautiful life I was slowly building.

This little apartment has become more than just the place where I live. It’s becoming my home. Not because it’s fancy. Not because it’s big. Because it’s mine. Every little thing I add makes it feel a little more like me. The purple touches that make me smile, my favourite coffee mug waiting for me every morning, pictures that remind me of love instead of loss, Sir Kit Kat supervising absolutely everything I do, and now… yes… a ridiculously soft purple rug that somehow makes the whole room feel warmer.

Who knew a rug could make your heart happy?

I’ve also realized something else. If my life had followed the path I planned all those years ago, I never would have met so many incredible people. I wouldn’t have built the businesses I love. I wouldn’t have this amazing community that gathers with me over coffee every week. Some of you have laughed with me, cried with me, cooked with me, and walked beside me through some of the hardest seasons of my life. Looking back, I can honestly say that some of my greatest blessings came wrapped inside disappointments I never wanted.

If I could sit down with my twenty-five-year-old self over a cup of coffee, I’d probably start by giving her a hug. Then I’d tell her to stop trying so hard to make everyone else happy. I’d tell her she deserves more than being taken for granted. I’d tell her to ask for help sooner, to take care of herself, and to stop believing that settling is the same thing as being content. Most of all, I’d tell her that life isn’t going to unfold the way she planned… and that’s okay.

Because maybe… just maybe… the Big Guy had a better blueprint all along.

I’m still finding my footing. I’m still learning. I’m still healing. Some days are messy. Some days I question everything. Other days I buy a fluffy purple rug, walk out of my bedroom the next morning, and smile because my apartment finally feels like home.

Life didn’t turn out the way I planned…

It turned out the way God planned for me.

Maybe I’m finally learning to trust that.

And somehow… I think that’s even better.

Until next time, remember this…

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass… it’s about learning to dance in the rain.

Stay kind.
Stay grateful.
And always remember… YOU Matter!

With love,

Shelly 💜