Crossroads

The new year induces change for the masses. Resolutions, promises… it’s as if we’re handed a giant eraser (which we assume we only get once a year.). It’s a crossroads. But not just any crossroads- it’s a turning point that we all take together.

Truth is, most of us know that we face crossroads every day. Difference is, it’s lonelier than New Years. Rather than stepping into an established holiday with TV talk show segments or party hats, we cross our roads with a quiet independence. It takes place everywhere. Perhaps at the foot of our bed in a conversation, or in the car driving past a would-be opportunity. . . the other end of the phone line. It’s interesting how the momentum and romance of taking big steps in our lives quickly fades when we feel like maybe we’re the only person at the time taking them. There’s a lot to be said for strength in numbers. Seems to me that the nerve we possess while standing with a friend is far more readily available than when we’re fighting to muster it up alone.

Friendships change. They morph into shapes that fit around our current circumstances. This year I have strengthened a few, learned from many and regrettably probably lost one.  Despite the transformations they’ve each taken on, it’s these friendships that have helped me from season to season. No, not just helped…. given me strength. Truth is, there’s no better investment than a person. Sure, we all have different personalities but even the most timid amongst us (who we may think are indifferent), desires meaningful friendships.

I was thinking today about my year and all it’s held. So much has gone on and while I’m chasing this year’s coat tails I’m being flung into the next. But as I surveyed the previous months, it was my relationships that have impacted me the most.

Today we stand at this doorstep of inventory, taking time to look ahead and make our goals and plans.

My wish for those I love is not just for today but for the all the days you’ll come upon your crossroads. May you find friends close by that will hold your hand through your journey, remind you that you’re on one and maybe even one or two who’ll step for you while you rest.

Happy New Year.

4yrs. old and all that lies ahead.

Star charts. Astro food and space camp. I was infatuated with becoming an astronaut when I was a girl. I used to dream about being shipped off to Florida and winning a trip to space and thereby proving my incredible navigation skills – I’d be rewarded honorary astronaut for life.

It didn’t happen.

This week, my 3 year old will turn 4. In honor of this momentous occasion, we packed our picnic basket and headed to her home away from home, the Zoo. She loves the zoo. Most days at around 10 or 11:00 in the afternoon, I will hear “Mommy, can we go to the zoo today?”. She'll affectionately talk about any animal... or insect whether it be a slimy slug or a fuzzy kitten. And while most girls her age would thumb through an American Girl magazine and get googly eyed over the dolls and accessories, Mackenzie concludes that the item she wants most from it is “Grace”, the dog.

We’ve tried our best to foster her interests. I’d like to think that one day she’ll be a vet, or a zookeeper. Perhaps she’ll be a botanist and make important discoveries that impact millions. I believe in her. But while we all need someone to believe in us, I think there's just some people who are more comfortable in their uniqueness. I admire it so much, I almost envy her for it.

There’s a lot of reasons why we don’t grow up to be our childhood dreams. I don’t own a NASA flight patch. It’s not because I was horrible in math or didn’t have people who believed in me, it’s because my interests changed with time. I’m not sure if Mackenzie will pursue her love for animals and nature. I hope that she will but really, loving her means giving her room to be herself. Even allowing room for her to choose not to do what I think she would be best at! It won’t be easy…. But I trust her.

Why?

Because after her sister finished her dramatic dialogue about what she wants to be when she grows up (ballerinas and cowgirls, center stage and sequins), my aunt turned and asked her. Mackenzie looked about the room and then turned her head downward in thought. I’ll never know what she was thinking, but she lifted her head up and quietly replied: “I just want to be Mackenzie”.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my one and only.

Perspective

My daughter attacks a blank canvas with vigor. She does not stall or gaze at it with indecision. She takes a brush, goops the paint on and creates beauty almost instantaneously. Today she made a purple mouse that sang at a concert. Then a blue and purple pumpkin for Christmas, stating that she liked pumpkins better than the traditional wreath I was painting.

I’d like to think that I think outside the box. That I’m some free spirit living my imagination rather than just thinking it. But I’m not quite sure that’s the case. This time of year can make many turn inward and remember what it was like to be a child. Standing small in front of a marvelous Christmas tree….with all it’s wonder and cheer. When I was young I would squeal with excitement when my Dad would truck in the cardboard boxes of Christmas decorations. The boxes themselves were nothing to boast about, torn and old. They were once used for firewood or grocery shipments but to me they carried inside the most precious of treasures a little girl could delight in. I’d often sit on the couch and gaze over at our tree. Although I didn’t know it then, it was a small tree but my mother would trim it in such a way that your eye would rarely be able to see towards the inside. Glass ornaments, a strawberry shortcake figure. . .  classic homemade ornaments that hung, illuminating the memories of the moments spent making them.

Perhaps because I didn’t have much else to do or places to go, I was able to enjoy it so much. A child can be in a big hurry to simply be a with a friend. Or look at a squirrel that was scurrying about their picnic. Since I’ve been a mother it’s opened my heart up more to stop for that which is around me. We’re reminded to do this a lot within our culture whether it’s from a hallmark card or an endearing movie. The message is given often but who has time to follow through?

A few days ago I took my dog for a walk. Seeing how dogs don’t care that it’s 15 degrees outside at six o’clock in the morning, off we went. I always look forward to the end of our venture when we round the corner and head back towards our street because that’s the moment when I see it. Towering above in all it’s brilliance of early winter. There stand the mountains of the Front Range. I used to look at them with self pity for I thought it unfair that they were there teasing me, calling my name when I couldn’t answer. But now, I see them for what they are. Their peaks have been powdered with snow for a month now and I think it was the chill in the air that created a sort of solidarity with me. Maybe because it was early morning and I felt as if I had the view all to myself or perhaps because that particular day in that particular moment, I was listening. Allowing myself to just BE. There’s a small window of time that photographers wait for. When the morning sun shines in just a way that it makes even the simplest of subjects, brilliant. This was such a moment and Oh what a beautiful sight I saw! It does something for my soul that I can never explain.

Cars then began to rush by us, passing my dog and I with indifference. I wondered if they saw it too. Were they too busy? I’ll never know.

As we slowly walked back up our street there were five or six crows flying in a circle. I knew what it meant to see so many black birds in one place and I looked about to see where their potential meal might be. There on the grass lay a bird… fallen. How sobering it was to witness a reminder that life is temporary. And we make our choices each day to enjoy it or not.

When I got back home I stripped off my down jacket, boots, gloves and everything else I had layered to keep my limbs from falling off. I noticed that all was quiet and still. I could have started breakfast or emptied the dishwasher in my usual morning routine but I took advantage of the sleeping house and later when my kids came plopping down the stairs they saw me there... sitting on the couch much like I did as a girl gazing at our brightly lit Christmas tree. They charged me, jumping on my lap and asked what I was doing. I said “just looking”. My daughter  replied “Mommy, it’s so big!”. Funny thing is, that morning our tree looked just a little bit bigger to me and I had to agree.

Winterblues

I feel like I could fly away.
Hide somewhere and waste the day.

In the peace. In the stillness.
With the quiet company of my thoughts.