After being on the road for seven days followed by four more entertaining out of town family, I woke up this morning in a haze.
Rolling over and stumbling down the stairs post too much bubbly, I realized that an act of God was taking place.
At 8:30am, all three of my children were snuggled in their beds sawing logs.
Holy Mary Mother of God. This. Never. Happens.
Reaching for the coffee pot, it hit me. Today is the beginning of a new year.
Opening the refrigerator door to secure the cream, I felt sad. I don't have a meaningful new year's resolution in my back pocket...no go-to mantra that will shape the curvature of 2016 providing renewed hope, promise and vigor for what is sure to be the best year yet.
Somewhere between watching the cream swirl the dark French roast into circles of morning joy, I thought, fuck this.
For once, this year is not going to be about how much weight I will gain or lose. It's not going to be about how many miles I will run or races I will enter. It's not going to be about how many pages I will write or the number of blog entries I will compose. It's not going to be about being a better wife or mother or friend or small business owner. Or keeping a clean house or taking a coveted trip. No, no, no.
As I sat over the kitchen counter, I thought, this year will be about rising into and unto myself without requiring a drop more. Without question, I bring a shit ton to this little life of mine....so much more than I give myself credit for or allow others to shower upon me. For far too long, I have been intimately aware of all of my shortcomings...all of the nooks and crannies that aren't enough. And, I am a professional when it comes to devising self-help plans to get the most out of me.
What I am not good at is honoring all of the me that is here fully formed, fulled cooked, wholly ready and eagerly waiting to sink into her own shoes, dawn her own cape and experience the world just as she is in this moment...not when she is 10 pounds lighter or published or living in a larger house or teaching in a classroom or not yelling at her kids.
The miracle is the now in all of its' imperfection and glory.
The challenge is to rise to the now exempt of forcing it to be something different or more loveable.
With the last gulp of my liquid gold savoring the quiet of the kitchen and the cold January first morning, I thought...this is going to be good. I'm going to be more than okay. Maybe for the first time in a long time, I'll give myself permission to see the unrefined, diamond-in-the rough gem that has been waiting to rise and bring life and strength and hope into the world.
Watch out, 2016...there's a lot of fucking good in store for the both of us.