Happy New Year! Had our third, and final family Christmas yesterday with my tribe of sister-friends. I hugged a lot of necks, played Uno, exchanged gifts, and stuffed myself with appetizers and taco salad and spiced cider. (My husband makes an amazing sour cream onion dip. Just sayin.)
MM went back to work today. And I begin my own search for work, in between loads of dishes and laundry and general tidying up. It is time to dig in to all the adventure and work of a new year. This season always finds me making lists, consulting calendars, reviewing last year's Intentions and Goals and pondering my next steps. I want to clean clean clean - my house, my desk, my file cabinet, my garage, my heart...
Last year I had double words: Strength and Beauty. And um. I'm still not really sure what happened there. It was a very, very different year from what I imagined. I felt weak and broken for most of this year. But I worked harder than I have ever worked in my life - deep, dark healing work. Good, painful stuff. Yowzers.
And while I'm tempted to keep these words again (and do it right this time), I'm not going to. That was then. This is now. And 2013 feels more about freedom. Getting unencumbered physically, financially, spiritually, emotionally. If this day next year finds me lighter and less burdened in all these areas, then that will suit me right down to the ground.
May it be so.
In the meantime, it is the 8th day of Christmas. Though I'm quite ready for the season to be over, we're hanging in there the whole 12 days. We're still burning down our Advent candles and enjoying our Christmas tree til Epiphany. We're delivering Christmas presents this weekend. I'm washing the red and green tablecloths and gathering supplies for one last holiday party. (Twelfth Night - pancakes and champagne!) In lieu of Christmas carols we're listening to Les Miz and having long discussions about justice and mercy. (And how Russel Crowe just does not work as Javert. I'm sorry, but No.) Another Advent of sorts as we wait for the end of all this merriment and sink into the quiet of winter, armed with nothing but pots of tea and stacks of books.
May it be so.