It’s Christmas Eve and I’m sitting under my favorite quilt. There’s a gooey rum cake in the fridge and my dog is happily curled up in the sunshine. The kiddo? She’s upstairs, playing Mario Brothers–her new favorite thing. My boyfriend (yeah, he’s great) is sanding and staining a shelf for our kitchen nook. Our Christmas tree is significantly larger on one side than the other and the ornaments are unevenly distributed. There are presents under the tree–most of them with too many bows. My Christmas cactus is full of silky white blooms and there is nothing for me to do today but write and relax.
It’s essentially bliss here, obviously.
This is starkly contrasted with last year, wherein I cried a lot on Christmas Eve. (If you’re crying today, I see you. You’re not alone.)
Time passed, as it has a habit of doing, and things began to get easier. I graduated with my masters degree and moved Myla and I into the city. It’s been a year of new beginnings.
I’ve been practicing risk-taking and fully occupying this life I’ve been given. I’m learning the power of contentment and how to exist in the curious tension brought on by serious questions like “who am I?” and “what do I want out of life?” and “who/what/where is God?”.
I’ve started meditating more, which has brought on several lessons about my relentless self-judgement (I am awesome at self-judgement). I’m learning how to love without expectation–this will likely take the majority of my time and attention over the next fifty years or so.
I’m learning that my life has primarily been motivated by to-do lists and accomplishments and that this leaves very little time for rest or being present or simply being comfortable in my own skin.
I’m learning to let each moment slide through my fingers as it passes– watching it, savoring it, and letting it go. (This is a lovely thought that is easily written about and difficult to execute.)
I’m watching in awe as my daughter grows taller and more full of life each day. Her words get bigger, her ideas more boundless, and her sass more astounding (not an exaggeration).
I’m learning that sometimes it hurts to write honestly and writer’s block is a thing I’m just going to have to deal with (*so fun*).
I feel seen and loved and known and valued, and I hope that you feel the same, this year and the next. I hope you find yourself full of hope, goals, and the means to achieve them. I hope you are surrounded by abundance and you’re about to focus on your part in things and nothing else. I hope you feel like you matter, because you do. I hope you know that when I think about the world and the people in it, I am so grateful to know that you are here, doing what you do, and making the world a little more welcoming for all of us.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, friends. 2018 will be amazing because you’re amazing and you’re only just getting started.
➤ What have you been learning this year? Grab a cup of coffee and tell me all about it.