For so long I have been depending on the traditions surrounding Christmas to bring me joy. To make me happy. I’ve looked to circumstances and things to give Christmas meaning. Not on purpose. It just happened. It took a season of loss to focus my attention back on Jesus. To see my joy comes from Him alone. Everything else is just extra.
Read more...Four more weeks. That’s what the Doctor said.
Last week, I went to the clinic for a four-week follow-up. I’ve been wearing a protective boot since my fall and I was really hoping to transition out of it. Having never broken a bone in my life, I had no realistic expectation of my recovery time. Patience isn't easy.
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This is has become my favorite week of the year. I have come to enjoy the week of Thanksgiving for the traditions my family has created. One of those traditions is cutting down a Christmas tree the Friday after Thanksgiving. The tradition began when I was a kid and I have carried it over into adulthood.
When I think about the courage it took for me to walk up to a stranger, I tend to think it is so out of character of me. Determined. Brave. These aren't words I usually associate with myself. But, maybe I should. Because, if I start believing these words to be true, I will more likely live them out.
Today is my wedding anniversary. It's been 25 years since Dave and I said "I do, for better or for worse," but our story began more 30 years ago when I first spotted him from a distance on the soccer field at Eastern College.
Three years ago, I grieved the loss of what was. Of my kid's childhood. Of our home schooling years. Although, in reality, the letting go process began years ago, sending him away to college was by far the hardest part of this journey. I daresay it was similar to the recent experience of breaking my leg. One moment I was walking happily down a path, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine, the next moment, I felt a sharp pain and was on the ground. Reluctantly, with no other choice, I got up slowly to whimper and hobble home.
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