Category: planning

Six Days to Go

Less than a week to go to Christmas! I spent a few hours the other evening drowning in wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, and tape, but all of my gifts are now wrapped and dressed up in their colorful decorations, except for the few stragglers that haven’t been delivered by Amazon or UPS yet.

Last night, my husband and I scattered my glitter glue tubes onto the kitchen counter and got to work, painting names onto Christmas stockings. One of them is for our youngest grandson, and I had to smile to myself as I watched my husband lean over that stocking, slowly and carefully placing the letters of our grandson’s name, making sure it was just right. We are excited about many things this year, and being a part of this little fellow’s very first Christmas is a huge one.

We did some shopping last night, too, and I picked up the ingredients for some baking over the weekend and next week. I keep running down my long, ever-growing mental checklist, making sure I am not missing anything before Christmas Day.

It’s been a busy holiday season, with a few more events still on the calendar. When I feel overwhelmed or aggravated, I stop and remind myself that there are certainly worse things in the world than Christmas parties, holiday celebrations, or preparing for loved ones to stop by. I like things orderly, organized, planned out to the tiniest detail, but if things don’t line up perfectly, guess what? It’s going to be just fine. It’s supposed to be about celebrating, having fun, enjoying each other, sharing time together. Loving each other. Making memories.

Monday

I had a few extra days off recently, thanks to being sick. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise, in some ways, because it gave me free time to do some thinking, some research, and lay out some plans for things I have been thinking about for a while but haven’t set into motion yet.

“Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become.” ~ Reinhold Niebuhr

“Don’t fear failure. Fear being in the exact same place next year as you are today.” ~ Michael Hyatt

Busy Week

Every weekend, I sit down with my planner and map out the upcoming week. Last night, I scribbled away, noting all the events, listing all my to-do activities. One thing is for sure: this is going to be a busy week!

I started baking over the weekend, not for Thanksgiving, just because I was excited and wanted to make something. My co-workers are happy for the sweets I brought them today.

I have my recipes printed for the Thanksgiving desserts, since I can’t stand trying to follow a recipe on a phone or tablet. Give me good, old-fashioned paper that gets flour and sugar scattered across the page, something I can brush off, file away, and pull out again next year like an old friend.

Last year at this time, I was hiking a mountain in North Carolina to stand triumphantly, huffing and puffing, at the top of a waterfall with my husband. I was still battling bronchitis at the time, so I consider it an extra special victory that I made it to the top with a pulse. We’re not talking neat, packed-down, well-traveled paths here. We’re talking steep, grab-a-rock-and-haul-yourself-up kind of hiking.

No mountain trails or waterfalls this year, but I am still excited. This week is going to fly by, with so much to do and so much to prepare. Next year, when I look back at this Thanksgiving, I wonder: what will I remember, with a smile, and possibly write about?

Full Moon

Typically when my husband and I take a trip or attend an event, I like lots of lead time. I like to plan, research, draft an itinerary if necessary, sketch out every last detail. So when I saw an announcement of a full moon lighthouse climb only a day or two before the event, I thought, oh well. Maybe we’ll catch the next one.

Then I stopped and asked, why? Will the world stop spinning if we just go and don’t know every tiny piece of information first? So I mentioned it to my husband, and he was excited about it. That settled it: we were going!

Last night we stopped for a quick dinner and then headed out to the lighthouse. A band was playing, and a bonfire was snapping and crackling in the darkness. I went first up the lighthouse steps, and at first we were joking and talking, my husband slapping my butt playfully, but after what seemed like a million steep steps, we got a lot quieter, and I was wondering if we would ever reach the top!

We kept circling, winding our way up one step at a time. Someone had written “halfway there” on the wall, and then further up had added the note “Almost there!” The steps got even tinier and narrower, then finally, we were at the top.

There’s no describing the view from the top of that lighthouse. The full moon was glowing proudly, reflecting on the water in the distance, a silvery glint on the treetops. It was beautiful and peaceful.

My husband stood beside me silently, then reached for my hand on the railing. We were still out of breath from the climb, but it was very worth it. I felt dizzy from the height, and the walkway was extremely narrow, so we were standing practically on the edge by necessity. I’m not a fan of heights, but I didn’t want to leave, either. It was all too pretty.

From the top, we could see the glow of the bonfire, and we could see people walking around on the ground, so tiny. The circling light from the lighthouse danced across treetops. We could see the shimmer of the water, which looked like it was floating above the thick trees from that height.

On our way home from the lighthouse, my husband got excited about the big, bright moon reflecting off the water, so we pulled over and walked down to the beach. We stood together and enjoyed the beauty of the view, and we induldged in a few kisses (how could we not, in that setting?)

I admit I’ve been planning our summer trips since the fall, but now I feel inspired to maybe add just a few more spontaneous, “let’s-just-do-this” kind of things, too. When we look back over our lives together, years and years from now, I like the idea of being able to say, “Remember when we stood in the full moon at the top of a lighthouse?”

*Photo credit: Wrightsville Beach Full Moon Fever, taken by Lee Capps

Cocoon

I have been looking forward to this weekend ever since last weekend! It’s been an exhausting week. It wasn’t a bad week at all, though, just draining. I found myself doing a lot of thinking, reflecting, talking to my brothers, getting so inspired by our conversations…but at the same time, grieving is simply tiring, and there’s no way around that.

After some events this past week, some thought-provoking and beautiful moments, I feel like I have finally started to climb back to my feet. I haven’t been unhappy, exactly, or moping around. I have actually felt more motivated to embrace life since losing my mom, to find meaning and purpose to this pain, to honor her by living my life as fully as I can.

But I was still holding myself back. I didn’t even realize it. After a few conversations with my brothers recently, I feel ready to break free of that. I am grateful to have them, in addition to my husband, to lean on and gain strength from during all this.

I feel a bit like I am slowly waking up from a coma. Losing my mom definitely knocked me on my ass, but the last thing she ever would have wanted is for me to stop taking care of myself over it. So it’s time for changes. A lot of positive, healthy changes.

One thing I have already changed is reminding myself to live in the moment, to appreciate the love in my life, to experience and hold onto every single bit. Laying in bed this morning, tucked tightly under the warm covers, I felt my husband’s arms around me, his face pressed tenderly against my chest, and I melted into the moment, enjoying the peace and beauty of our time together before starting the day. I don’t want to take any of those moments for granted.

My husband and I have some plans this weekend, and that’s certainly one reason I can’t wait for the weekend. But I am also looking forward to this weekend and my time off next week because I can’t wait for down time to think, plan, to retreat for just a moment like a butterfly in a cocoon, and lay groundwork to emerge even better than before.

There are things I wish I would have said to my mom. Maybe that happens for everyone after a loss. I am grateful I got a chance to talk to her in the hospital and let her know how much I love her, how much I’ve always loved her. But I would like to learn from that and not leave things unsaid anymore.

In a backhanded way, I am also thankful for people in my life like my husband’s ex, who repeatedly teach me what happens when someone refuses to grow, move forward, improve, or mature. I don’t get it, and I guess I should be grateful that I don’t understand it, that it’s too far beneath me to comprehend. I appreciate the reminder and the example of the result of clinging uselessly to the past, of offering no joy to anyone, of not embracing life or truth or authenticity–in short, of refusing to actually LIVE.

I refuse to be like that. I deserve better than that. So do my husband, my stepkids, my brothers, everyone that I care about. Life is about living, and loving, and discovering and sharing happiness, and I intend to do just that.

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