New beginnings have always energized me. The challenge of a new deadline, the anticipation of a change in seasons, the turning of calendar pages to a fresh, hope-filled New Year.
But what if we’re still reeling from loss as the calendar page turns? Is it possible to take the hard and turn it into good in 2017? It is.
Photo credit: Pixabay
While heartless unfeeling inconsiderate friends continue sending photos of piles of snow back home, I’m spending Christmas in New Jersey where there is no fluffy white stuff adorning the landscape.
But there’s been plenty of playing, laughing, squealing, listening to Christmas music, gift-giving, nerf gun wars, good eating, Chai tea sipping, Lego building, book reading going on here in Jersey.
Photo credit: Doug Oines
Which has contributed to 5 observations on important life issues this Christmas:
Christmas in New Jersey and I have the grands all to myself for a few days while The Parents meet up with The Aunt & Uncle in a place that involves sunglasses, fun T-shirts and odd-looking ears (hint: Orlando).
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In two days, I fly to the other side of the continent. New Jersey. Home to half my kids, all my grandkidlings, and three-quarters of my grand-dogs. (As well as the NY Giants and NY Jets, in case you needed to know that.)
But before I leave Oregon, one last 2016 hike through Shevlin Park today …
Photo credit: me and my iPhone
… because I can.
My husband, Gary, and I were anticipating hiking a new trail with friends. Four-in-One Cone in the Sisters (Oregon) Wilderness with views of seven distinct, massive, rock-solid peaks. As we began our climb, we found ourselves in the clouds. Dense. Gray. No mountain views in sight. Worse, I couldn’t seem to get warm; I was focused too much on the damp coldness.
A week later, Gary and I hiked the same trail and climbed the same cinder cone. This time, the views were stunning. And although it was cold, my focus was on the splendid 360-degree canvas in shades of blues and whites.
North and Middle Sister, left to right (Photo credit: Gary Johnson)
My practical analytical down-to-earth no-nonsense wry-humored (handsome) husband once said to me: “If you didn’t get your hopes up so much, you wouldn’t get so disappointed.”
I don’t know about that philosophy. It sounds pretty hope-less to me.
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This is a revisitation of a blog I posted a year ago during the holiday season, which — as you know — can be a no-tidings-of-great-joy time of year. Especially if you’ve lost something of infinite value.
Like your health. Or you’re dealing with the aftermath of cancer, or financial reversals.
Or you’ve lost that most perfect astonishing, believer-in-your-dreams, would-do-anything-for-you, would-go-anywhere-with-you person in your life.
Photo courtesy of Unsplash
Before going to bed each night, I opened the shades. So I could wake up to tall snowy mountains peeking in my windows. I’ve spent the past three days in Joseph, Oregon, at The Bronze Antler Bed & Breakfast.
Hubby and I had talked about visiting Joseph and hiking in the Wallowa Mountains. But we ran out of time. And so here I am. My November brave-making venture.
Photo credit: JosephOregon.com
Today is the day — two years ago — Hubby left his cancer-ridden, morphine-pumped, lymphedema-swollen body for heaven.
Today I helped a friend pack up her kitchen, and unpack in her new home. The new kitchen — the heart of the house — is now open for service. And I loved that I had a part in that.
Today, I sat in a coffee shop infused with comforting aromas, writing and enjoying a Chai tea, courtesy of my niece who sent a generous gift card.
Photo credit: Unsplash
The title of an online article — “4 tips for throwing a successful funeral” — caused me to do a double-take. Perhaps it was the use of the word throwing as opposed to say, planning, that made it sound a little … um, inappropriate.
Two years ago this week, the most overwhelming aspect of my newly-widowed life was the thought of planning a service. But after all was said and done, the Celebration of Life service we *threw* for Hubby was just that. A celebration. And why not?
Photographer: Howard Gorman
Copyright © 2024 Marlys Johnson
