Wishing you this.

Somehow, we have moved through another entire year. How well did we move? Was it with peace, with anxiety, with anger, with joy. Did we move with hope? Did we move forward or back, or some of each? Was it full of grief? Was it grueling and yet filled with grace? Was it scary? Did we dance, did we laugh, did we move faith forward? 

It was a year of so much change in my life. I never do things in a small way. Although my desire is to tip-toe gently in, often I find I jump in and then wade through the fallout. Finding our way is like that. Fallout is a necessary part of life. Living is necessary for fallout. You can't have one without the other. 

Accept a new job I thought, pull up roots I thought. I am ready for this I thought. Let go of all that is familiar and start again.  Discover all the changes you asked for are harder in more ways than you could ever have imagined. Grieve deeply for the past. Grieve deeply for a place that was a beloved home for many years. Grieve the life changes that made all of this come to fruition. Pack up and move twice in six months. That was a beast of an endeavor. But you know what feels like home and what doesn't. If you have to move more than once to find it do so. Then thank those who helped you repeatedly make it happen.

It's been a year of uncertainty, and of discovery. What would I do different? I'd reach out sooner for help when I needed it. Sometimes we are slow learners. I'd lean in closer to the love available. I'd let go of anxiety and breathe in certainty. I'd trust deeply that my needs will be met. After all, doesn't the big guy upstairs promise me that?  I don't have to do life by myself. I'd trust more, worry less. I'd understand mistakes are simply human moments  and stepping stones for growth. I'd be gentle with myself. I'd accept that other people don't have to like me, but I do. I'd cry a lot, maybe more, if possible. Crying is cleansing and healing. I'd anticipate good things.

I walked the dogs daily, beginning mid-March, and have only missed three days. Not going the count the number of poop bags I used, but can I just say Layla donates regularly on our walks. That's a personal record for consistent exercise for me. Granted we use the stop and sniff method. For the dogs stopping to use their nose is an important part of the process. I particularly like when this happens on big hills. I reached out to others who walk the path of survivors of suicide loss. I hope my experience and encouragement finds its way to those struggling.  I helped Hobbs gently cross the bridge when it was time. I helped Gunther through a couple of health issues.  And this, this is a big one...I didn't give up. Lord knows how much I wanted to give up.

So here I am at years end. Weary, grateful, stronger, wiser, softer. I have a much deeper understanding of our need for connection. So I wish you these same things...loving connections, strength, gratitude, growth. May the path be easy, and if not, may it be traveled with faith, family and good friends. That's who and what gets us through the hard parts. That's who laughs with us at the absurdities of life. That's who celebrate's the victories big and small. That's who wipes the tears and gives us courage to move forward again. Wishing you this, so much of this.

This And That

It is completely okay, to not feel the Jolly in the Holly Jolly. To not feel the Merry in the Merry Christmas. To only feel the la-la-la, in the Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la. 

It is part and parcel of life to be completely blessed and still feel sad, or lonely, or any of your other very valid feelings. This has been such a grieving season for all of us. Loss of our sense of normalcy, as well as other losses in life. Some losses we see coming, and can understand to some degree. Some losses will surface, and resurface and never make any sense at all. 

There are times we may think, I 'should' be happy because I have this, this, and this. The have's don't always zero out the haven'ts. Truthfully, some people only dream of the lives we have. The jobs we have, the roof over our heads, the food in our pantry. Some of this reads contradictory. We are blessed, we are blessed beyond belief. And, we have losses to grieve and sorrows to bear. We can feel joy and anticipation one moment, sadness and heartache the next. The common denominator? We feel.

Whatever you are feeling in this season of life, this season of the year, it's valid. And, you are valuable. Feel it, bless the feeling and release it. Because it's okay to be both this and that. 

In The Midst...

I make it a point to sit in my little family room to eat dinner. It is one of the few moments daily that I slow down, am fully present and enjoy. I also do that so I am eating at a table without clutter, without technology (although sometimes I cheat on that), even without a book. Sometimes I struggle with finding the joy in eating alone. But today, as I looked around this little room, I discovered something very important.

In this little room with brick walls and a wood burning stove, hang antlers from the deer my Dad shot many moons ago. There is the Christmas tree with the first ornaments I bought as a newlywed in 1980. There is the ornament I crocheted when I was pregnant in 1983. There is a mistletoe ornament. One doesn't take chances missing out on kisses under the mistletoe. But there is more. There is a board salvaged from the junk pile behind a flower shop I managed. It's been repurposed into a sign that says Together Is A Wonderful Place To Be on one side, and Believe on the other. Painted with love by a friend I had the privilege of working with. There is a old barn door I bought with another flower shop friend at a one-of-a kind sale. One of us was going home with that door, I was the lucky one. There is the collage of pictures from my rural home of sunsets, storm clouds and the creek. There is the winter picture painted in a class with the women's group from my little village of 42. It says All Is Calm, All Is Bright. Nothing in my life was calm or bright at that time. There are pointer pictures I collected over the years, finally hung in a gallery setting. There is the metal pointer silhouette gifted from a friend in Canada. There is the perfect chair I found at the GoodWill, because I am a thrift store kinda gal. There is so much past and present in that room. So many answered prayers. So many memories of life, family/friends and love.

I discovered I am not alone at all in that room. In the midst of all the busyness. In the midst of viruses, fear, stress and worry. In the midst of lost dreams and answered prayers I am surrounded by love. In the midst of this season of life, whatever it consists of, may you be surrounded by love. May you Believe. Look past the messes, the challenges, and see the blessings. The truth is that you are not alone. And...You are oh so loved.