Pajama Days

For almost a total of 36 hours, I had a 'pajama day' (actually, more like a pajama day-and-a-half).

Out-of-town visiting family for the holidays, I have indulged myself in a luxurious combination of either being completely lazy or just doing whatever I want---a little reading, some music practice, quite a bit of writing, some exercise, a lot of penciling out song lyrics, quite a bit of lying on the couch or in the bed.

And it has probably been the best thing I have done for myself in the past several months.

Sometimes I think admitting we're broken is healing. So much of our lives are spent wearing masks, smiling to the world that we're okay, not only to put up a facade, but just to hold ourselves together and to keep from completely crumbling apart.
 

Keeping Christmas

The days after Christmas used to be the most depressing days imaginable to my young mind. I was very enthusiastic as a child, easily excited, and spent weeks---no, months---anticipating that magical day of December 25.

It was the day we celebrated the mysterious birth of a baby in a manger,

the morning following Santa's fascinating slide down our brick chimney (where he emerged out of our wood stove, I was convinced) to leave an array of surprises under our Christmas tree,

the day we drove the curvy countryside road to my grandparents' house, where dozens of laughing family members crammed into their little white home, feasted on more food than we could finish, then gathered around their tree where I always opened a package containing some sort of beautiful doll. Then my brother, cousins, and I played happily with those new toys while laughter and Christmas music filled the background.

Emmanuel, Light Of The Darkness

I have re-read the story a couple of times this year, searching for something new, some overlooked detail that hadn't captured my attention before. 

A couple of years ago, my eyes landed on the verse: 
  
"the star they had seen when it rose went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the young child lay." 
  
I had always pictured a massive bright star, stationed precisely over the stable, a gleaming arrow pointing to the baby below. But the star was moving? Carefully guiding the wise men each step of their journey? As they stepped closer towards it, the star then beckoned them a little farther? The destination was not revealed to them in a detailed map at the beginning of their journey?

Gold And Diamonds: Sick Of The 'Stuff' of Christmas

"You're gonna love the gift he's picked out for you," a couple of female acquaintances whispered to me. My boyfriend had confided in them the surprise he had planned for me that Christmas many years ago.

A part of me felt anxious at the awareness an unexpected gift was coming, because the relationship just hadn't been working. Another part of me felt desperate anticipation. Maybe the gift was a sign of hope, a signal that things were about to turn around?

On Christmas Eve, I unwrapped the small package---a beautiful dainty bracelet of gold and diamonds. With the smallest size being too large for my wrist, links had been taken out and made into earrings. So not only did I have my very first gold diamond bracelet, but gold and diamond earrings to match. It was lovely, and I appreciated it.
 

I Have Questions, But No Answers

When I began this blog, my goal for it was to be purposeful, intentional writing---not just rambling or venting my fluctuating emotions.

Yet tonight, I sense this post may contain both.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice. Mourn with those who mourn." Romans 12:15.

I believe that is why hearts, hundreds and thousands of miles removed from today's tragedy, are broken--- because we mourn with those who mourn. And yet, I often feel a guilt with my own mourning, because I wasn't one of those in the school desperately trying to survive a horrific calamity. I wasn't the mom who sent her new kindergartener off to school five months ago with that nervous anxiety mothers of kindergarteners face----What types of worries do mothers feel when sending those little ones off on their first day of school? Separation anxiety? Will they make friends okay? Fall victim to a bully? Get hurt on the monkey bars? Feel homesick, or maybe not homesick enough?

Not A Whole Person, Just A Puzzle

I have a pair of jeans
with this writing
inscribed on the inside:
"Carrying myself 
with an air of confidence, 
I am a woman 
who knows who she is."

I like to read those words
and remind myself of who I am---
particularly when I forget,
particularly when people around me
don't seem to know who I am.

I'm close to a month away
from my 35th birthday.

Did you know that
approximately age 35
is when perimenopause can begin?
Did you know that
if a woman gets pregnant at age 35,
it is diagnosed as "advanced maternal age"
and comes with its own set of additional precautions and careful testing?
Are you aware of the exact percentage of women
who have never been married by age 35?

While On The Way

I drove through the countryside
on the Friday after Thanksgiving
to a celebration
at my cousin's house.
Eager to see my family,
but with a struggling
heart and body.
The past six weeks
have been heavy ones.

Yet the scenery
all around me was peace---
open fields with cattle and barns,
treetops swaying in the wind,
a sunset splashing
vibrant colors across the sky.