Coloring with Happy Crayons

It seems that the end of the year warrants a certain amount of reflection and philosophizing, at least in my household. As a visual thinker, my philosophies tend to pictorial elements, ones that I can paint with words and view in context, as needed. To that end, I have formulated a tentative model for managing certain life events that hopefully will bring joy into 2011. In my mind, I can imagine that these events start out like line drawings in a coloring book. Black and white, simple scenarios, without emotion or portent. The owner of this coloring book also owns the crayons that will be used to complete the pictures. In this box of crayons are a wild array of colors, like Crayola's big box of 64, which includes the cool metallic ones like copper, silver and gold. In this box are also greys, browns and black. It is totally possible to use whatever colors you choose, but each choice brings something to the picture, be it warm or cold, bright or dark.  The picture will change from a neutral line drawing to one filled with emotion, character, drama.  I am choosing to break the black, brown and grey crayons, and use the happy colors for 2011...I imagine the 11 as bright pink and silver crayons, ready to bring life into my coloring book.

Golden Hours

My husband and I were talking about how we could find time to do the things we like to do. Like knitting, exercising, reading, or building something. We figured that there is at least one hour every day that could be dedicated to those things. So I am making a list of what I would like to do in that daily golden hour. Monday it was a home pedicure, yesterday it was Zumba, today it is sewing, tomorrow it is dinner with friends. In fact, I have decided to keep a separate agenda book with only the golden hour events in it. That way I don't have to also look at the doctor appointments and tests that are the opposite of golden. As each day goes by, I can look in my little book and think about what joy awaits me when I finally can get to my special hour. 365 hours a year. That is time enough to finish that scrapbook, knit a few scarves, soak in a tub, down a delicious dessert and read Pilgrim's Progress.

Sweet Endings

I would have to say that this year, 2010, has been one of the very hardest ones my husband and I have ever lived. We have battled job loss, financial downturns, cancer recurrence, fatigue, depression, grief. Of course, it has not all been dark...we have had job found, financial blessings, watched our youngest give her Master's dissertation, walked on the deck of a Carnival cruise ship in the Caribbean, swam in crystal blue seas. At the close of this year, we are learning to savor the sweet moments, and not let a one go by without fully experiencing all it has to offer. Our girls were together with each other and us this Christmas for the first time in 3 years. I put reason and some frugality aside and decorated the house like I haven't done in a long time. We stayed up late every night we all were together and ate candy and played games. The warmth and light that filled our home is still glowing tonight, even though they are on planes back home. This is the best ending to a hard year: the ability to take it all in, hold it close, breathe in the fullness of joy, and spread it back out again.

Unpacking Faith

Finding a faith in God can be a difficult and circuitous journey. I was raised in a formal church, where the place felt cold and I was judged by how well I dressed and how many friends I had. That certainly did not interest me, so by age 13 I no longer wanted to, nor was made to,  attend. I had friends through the years after that had a bent toward God that I did not understand, and it wasn't until 14 years later that I finally began to make sense out of what I had gleaned from the bible lessons of my childhood. It was such a wonderful transformation that I raised both my daughters in a very focused and diligent dedication to those same bible teachings, determining that their journey to faith in God would be easier than mine. My oldest daughter followed that path without ever wavering, but my second daughter seemed to find our choices for her did not fit her choices for herself. She has chosen the same circuitous road I chose so long ago, maintaining about the same pace and maybe for the same reasons. Her childhood faith has been packed away with other childhood experiences, tucked in the basement of her soul. One day that box will be opened, and the faith that was put there will come out, and God will be found.

Christmas Party

I have interlocking circles of friends, most of them don't know each other. Each group has their own special qualities and gifts. Tonight one of these groups gathered for supper and a gift exchange. This is mostly what this group does. I have never been to some of these gals' houses, don't even know where some of them live. We never worked together, or raised kids together. We know each other through these dinners, and we gather together and eat and talk like old friends. This is mostly because of our mutual friend Lynn...who has known all of us for years and years and organizes these events. Anyway, we share a meal and gifts because that's what we do, and it is always fun to see what comes out of the cute little gift bags filled with tissue paper. Earrings, homemade jams, ornaments for the tree, gift cards to Starbucks...tokens of love and respect that come from belonging to a circle of friends. No matter how loosely woven, this friendly cloth is warm and comforting. I am wearing a new fuzzy hat, and a sparkly ice cream cone necklace is now in my jewelry collection. Thank you all for  a wonderful evening!

Nitrous Oxide

I visited a periodontist today for a gum graft. I have had gum surgery before, and it was hard to think about going through it again. This time the pain at the tooth drove me to the dentist, and I was glad that he opened his office on this snowy day to take care of it, since it has been hurting for 2 months. When we set this up, the assistant offered me nitrous oxide, for a nominal $50 charge, during the procedure. I initially balked, first at the $50, and second at the idea that I was not brave enough to face the procedure fully awake. We talked about the benefits of it a little bit. Ever since I have had to deal with cancer, I have taken off the mask of the persona of the stoic, surgery by surgery. Referring to my last post, I have decided that I have nothing to prove. The strangers at the dentist office are not judging me. The nurse in the preop room, pushing Versed, is not judging me. The nurse in the recovery room, pushing morphine, is not judging me. Adjunct medicine is there for me, not to test my stoicism, but to provide relief from the anxiety and pain that come from needles and scalpels and sutures. So I agreed to the nitrous. It was $50 well spent.

Nothing to Prove

One good thing about middle age is the collection of volumes of experiences one gathers through the years. Like a fantastic library, housed inside our minds and souls are millions of moments lived, each one unique. Just like books, some of these moments are fascinating, thrilling and compelling stories, some are scary or sad, many are predictable, even boring. If lived well, upon remembering these experiences, it could be determined that there is nothing left to prove. There have been gains and successes, defeats, times when it was better to start over, challenges overcome...or not. The wins and the losses even out, and one can choose to go after the new thing, or stay the course. Sail a boat around the world, or sit by the fire and play with your grandchildren. Nothing to prove means it is fine either way. It is your life, your one beautiful and priceless life.