I love New Year’s morning.
I love opening my eyes and hearing the distant roar of Carl watching
bowl games (the game not Carl).
He usually rises earlier than me.
Usually meaning 99.7% of the time.
Today, however, it must be a very new year as I was the first to arise and
behold the foggy morning.
I think too much merriment last night was had by all and the one-two
knock-out punch of Chinese food and chocolate fondue caused everyone even
the dog slept in.
I love feeling like the pages of my Bible are brand new and smooth.
Some years they are if I have chosen a new translation but I love
turning to Genesis 1 or whatever place I purpose to land.
I love brand new journals and calendars.
I love how even though many items in my life remain firmly in their
places from December 31st,
there still is hope squarely in the first square of January and beyond.
I am not loving the reality that increasingly there are more hard and
sorrowful events strewn near and far, but I am learning to depend on where true comfort
roams and it is not in this world.
I have done a fair amount of reflecting, dreaming and pondering over the
last few weeks of December.
I gave up resolutions many years ago in favor of pursuits.
Pursuits seem to pull me forward instead of pointing me in the direction
I still am not completely sure of my 2014 word.
Do you have yours picked out yet?
My last post in these parts recounted some squeaks in our lives.
There have been more,
some out of nowhere, loved ones passing or in final stages of life.
I am learning that I can’t fix anything, I can only stay affixed, just like a stamp
on an envelope.
I assume my position on the right hand corner and give God the expanse
of the rest of the terrain.
This week, I learned that I want to be a parking lot straggler.
Sounds a bit strange, I know, but before you decide to intervene,
I will explain.
I ran into a friend in a store parking lot.
She was arriving and I was carrying bags.
I could immediately tell that despite her empty hands, she carried a load.
We stopped and hugged.
We ran down the list of our children and their comings and goings.
I kept my feet firmly planted towards hers and in that moment of remaining,
she bypassed the litanies
we become so accustomed to reciting.
Many years ago, I had been a resident in the place of her suffering,
she couldn’t have known this as our lives were orbiting in different places in the universe.
I was fluent in the language so there was nothing lost in our translation.
I want to linger in parking lots and not miss the pain, even when it is cold or
rainy or hard.
Even when remembrance brings with it echoes of the opposite of freshly pressed
Parking lots can impart life instead of a shared drudgery if we will exhale,
slow down, remain and even be a straggler.
I will pursue being a straggler wherever my feet land me this year.
By definition, a straggler walks directly into something or wanders from a direct course or
Each one of us can walk directly in the direction of our next task or in my case,
to my car.
We could find a fresh new way.
Resolve to straggle and allow your path to collide with someone
who simply needs your unhurried presence.
I am on a pursuit to cast the word straggler in a brand spanking new light.
Will you join me?
Some more new year
ramblings musings in the days ahead.
Happy New Year everyone!
I have been a straggler on this blog over the past year.
It is with much affection that I thank each one of you who have
continued to remain.
Thank you for leaving comments or sending emails to share with me
your thoughts behind the words written here.
I love knowing that we all grapple with so many of the same life issues.
Seven years ago, I wandered into the world of blogging and although I have
at times veered off the “best prescribed course to become a successful blogger”,
( and yes, there is one)
I have learned that following Him is best even if that means
less blog posts.
There is not a shortage of words online, so I count it a great
honor that you would endeavor to read my jotted down
I am ever so grateful to you all.