Saturday, January 19, 2019

The Book of the Year

It may seem strange to still be talking about Christmas, especially now that it's almost a month behind us. Can you even believe that? We are almost in to the last week of January, and in some respects I don't even feel like I've had much of a chance to think about the new year, and all that I want to accomplish.

I was sick from Christmas Eve up until last week with the worst cold and upper respiratory infection I've had in years. Since I've had the flu three times in two calendar years, I'm hoping this was my due service for the season and I don't get it again. But that's really just the excuse I'm using this year, even if it is a legitimate one!

Every year I say I'm going to be more prepared, less rushed, when it comes to the holiday season. I do pretty well up to Thanksgiving, but then it seems the next five weeks are just a blur and I never seem to be able to accomplish the quiet, reflective, meaningful season I dream about. Usually by the time Christmas Day is here, while I always enjoy it, part of me is just ready for it all be done so I can quit being disappointed and start thinking about how to do it better next year.

In addition to that, I've been struggling since Bill and I got back together, which was the highlight and greatest blessing of 2018, to find my rhythm again. Mind you, it's a problem I'm happy to have! But at the same time it's really starting to get to me and I need to figure it out.

In all of this, reflecting upon the whirlwind that was Christmas and trying to find my footing, I came across a poem that I shared on my homeschool resource website, A Considered Childhood.  More than the words, it was the title of the poem that really spoke to me, it is called The Book of The Year, and it reflects upon how life opens up like a book, a chapter and a page at a time. My favorite line says;

"The whole wide world together, turns only a page at a time." 

Something about that just really struck me, and I began to reflect upon my own life as if it were a book, 365 pages long, 12 chapters, and four divisions, yet lived out one page at a time. My desire is to write a beautiful story upon those pages, to savor every season, look forward to every chapter, and slowly, ever so slowly, to turn each page. I don't like to rush through books when I read, and if my life were a book I would want to linger with it for awhile, too.

I think that deep down I'm also a little unsettled. I have a couple of friends, one quite a bit younger than me, and another close to my age who are at the end of their life right now. It's hard for me to imagine dying at my age. I used to think my 50's would feel old, but now that I'm here I'm beginning to wonder when it is exactly that you feel "old"? Times have changed so much, and I don't even look as old as my mother or my grandmother did when they were my age. And while I'm grateful for that, when I do see elderly people out in public it causes me to wonder exactly how old are they, and when am I going to look like that? It's kind of humorous, actually.

Anyway, I feel like I'm beginning to ramble, maybe even being a little whiny. But I think at the heart of the reason for this post is that I want to live out however many years I have left here on this earth much like the poem says, one page at a time. I want to live intentionally, slowly, simply, and with a purpose every day. Watching people you know pass from life really causes you to think about your own mortality. We can't turn the page to see how much time we have left, so the best that we can do is to live our best life today! The last line of the poem reads,

"I cannot begin to tell you, of the lovely things to be 
in the wonderful year book waiting, a gift for you and me."  

So here's to the gift of life, my friends, to each chapter and every page! May we all write beautiful stories!

Until then,

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