Somehow December got away from me. No, this entire autumn got away from me, and although it is not the goal of this blog to vent and moan and carry on about the unfairness of life, it is also not my intention to pretend like everything is always hunky dory.
Of course, Thanksgiving was late this year, and although Advent is always the same number of days, the holiday season itself seemed compressed. Maybe that was just because I was still recovering from my fall in October, and various residual back and leg issues. The simple truth is I never fully recovered from the stress of trying to save this blog when typepad ceased hosting, and as you can tell, I never finished setting up this blog. I just hopped along from one mini-crisis to the next — stress, injury, a mid-December trip to Texas — all contributed to an Advent that felt not so much eagerly anticipatory but rather anxious and overwhelming. I used to avoid going to Texas in December, something I now see as wise.
And then there was Christmas itself, which brought a reversal of my mood. Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, joy sparkled in the air, sparkled in my heart even though I was still a little too tired to let that joy trickle all the way down to my toes. Christmas always does this to me, even a tired and overwhelmed me, the symbolism of hope made real in the world around me. The world itself may not change but my perception of the world changes, always and consistently, year after year. And of course that is what the “spirit of Christmas” is all about whether you are religious or not, Christian or not. There is a reason that ritual surrounds the winter solstice; a reason we need a turning from darkness to light, the bright star of hope.
I rediscovered some misplaced aspect of myself this fall, although the process of digging through the rubble was indeed tedious. I missed my normal springtime bout of inner angst and growth, often correlating with lent and Easter, and got served a double dose for Advent. Although I can honestly call it an act of preparation, not an act of penance.
I am still behind on everything. Four months circling the slough will do that to a person. But it is not so much a burden at the moment as an organizational project. I always have loved me a good project.
I’m not going to make resolutions. I probably won’t even do a year in review post, although I may go back and catch up on some reading or cooking. What I do know is that whatever comes next cannot be worse than what came before, if only because I am no longer willing to allow despair to shape the terms of engagement. Yes things go wrong. No one was ever promised ease, or comfort, or safety. Accepting that truth slams the door on denial and opens the door to joy.
This is my week for sleep and rest, not just sleep as recovery, but sleep as healing, as strengthening. I choose to live with joy and I am stronger than I would have said I was a few short months ago. I choose forward motion. But in the meantime I am ready for another nap.