Yesterday I took the Christmas tree down. That thing probably could have been up for a couple more weeks — it was still drinking water and the needles were barely falling off. Yet, it was totally time for me to remove it from the house. We needed space. But, more than that, I like to start the new year without the Christmas stuff up and the house clean.
As I put away each ornament and pulled down the strands of light I began to ponder next year. I wondered what my life would be like when I unwrapped the strands of light. I thought about life changes, and challenges and growth.What will life be like the next time I touch these lights? How will things change? How will they be the same?
Ornaments and decorations are interesting. You pack them up at the end of the year only to unpack them at the almost end of the following year. Year after year they are pulled out. There is a beautiful nostalgia in this tradition.
Your first birthday. How grateful I am that emergency doctors and surgeons recognized that you needed help when you swallowed that sequin star. We are so blessed by you in our lives.
Your voice. You started the year as a 2 1/2 year old who talked just a bit, and now as the year closes, you talk a blue-streak. You are hilarious. And full of spunk. And feisty. And such a gift.
What can I say? You are my hero. This year you started to read. You are deeply caring. Not a day goes by where I don’t hear from you, “love you mom.” You have a beautiful heart, my son.
Super strong man. With a heart for God. You made me so proud when you were in your Pirate Musical. Watching you on stage filled my heart with joy. You are a reader, and a helper, and the leader of the band of brothers. And you look so awesome missing those front teeth. 🙂
My ballet princess. You are so beautiful. This year you dove into ballet — and the result is exquisite. You help me out so much. I am blessed by your company and am so grateful to be your mom.
This is my last year with you before you turn 13. It seems like I just looked into your beautiful blue eyes when you were born. And now, you’re just about as tall as me. Your heart is so tender, so pure, so focused on the Lord. Thank you for reminding me how beautiful it is to be real.
My oldest. I have seen you start the year with an interest in photography which has now shifted to a passion for photography. You capture our lives with every click. Thank you for living your life for Christ. Your faithfulness encourages me in my own daily walk.
My faithful husband. This year marked five years since you were diagnosed with cancer. These years have been hard — ripple effects from being out of work for months due to cancer — and yet despite the difficulties they have been beautiful. Full of gifts, and hope, and a future. I love you.
So now the 2010 tree is outside plopped in the snow. This journey, this Christmas, is coming to a close. Tomorrow marks a new year. New challenges. New joys. Life keeps moving. Time flies by. I want to live. Alive. Aware. And grateful.