life stories

beginning a new year

Traditionally, today is a “me” day. The house is shockingly quiet after weeks of laughter, sister squabbles, tears, and conversations. We are returning to school and schedules. I’m breathing in the quiet, but find myself surrounded by lingering vibrations of time together. As I slowly collect Christmas decorations, I find lists scattered here and there…groceries needed for a big dinner together, love notes from my kids, including one to my husband that simply reads, “Remember to sing to me when you get home. Love you so much.” Somehow a note reading “egg and cheese biscuit” made its way into the guest room. Maybe there was a private breakfast for the grandparents that I didn’t know about? Ha! As I consider 2018, all I can think about is these notes I’m gathering, and I just want more of THIS.

My youngest bounced off the bus this afternoon and came into the house, quick to exclaim, “It’s ok. I know we need to pack things up, but can we please leave the lights? Everyone needs to keep out their lights.”

I consider the year ahead like a shiny marble in my hand, holding goals hand in hand with metaphors, wise enough to have learned the lesson about the pressure of resolutions, also wise enough to know how to make space to dream and create.

There is more to this blog than what I am creating at the moment, but I don’t know what. I know teaching and coaching are woven into my heart, and I hope to find new ways of doing both. As I told a friend last night, I am just going to continue my work of creating and wondering, sure that I am moving forward in ways that may not be clear to me now. I seem to learn this lesson about life over and over again; we are being carried and molded even when we don’t think work is always being done.

What I do know is this:

I want more notes all over the house and in the world – written, sung, and shared. I hope my heart can resonate with others in ways I am aware of and perhaps more ways that I may not be aware of. I want to leave the lights on for myself and for others. I hope to help others find and remember their voice.

I hope for a year of continuing to return to being present. I hope for a year where I can listen to my body and my spirit, knowing and respecting when I need to dig in to work, when I need to create space for rest, when I need to read, write, move my body, share time with other people, or create space for something unplanned to happen.

I hope for a year of courage and peace.

Ironically, everything metaphorically is leading back to these little notes I keep finding in the house, and my daughters wish for lights. At the end of the day, I suppose it’s not about the “what,” but the essence around what I bring, what you bring, and what happens when we create space for ourselves and learn how to share space together.

“Purpose is the place where your deep gladness meets the world’s needs,” wrote Frederick Beuchner. If you see me this year, will you remind me of this from time to time? In the meantime, I’m going to keep collecting and writing notes and staring at the lights, because, well, that’s a beginning.

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