FRESH

It is the third day of a brand-new year, a fresh beginning.

Hopes and desires for how it may play out over the 362 days of the year that lie ahead, are not too dissimilar from the previous year’s 365, health, happy family, needs met. It is not the monumental that I aspire to, just,

more please.

More of the best of what I have known. Such goodness. Such abundance. Though not without hope for a few things, to be even more still, than in the past.

God knows.

So, I just trust.

I love the much anticipated Christmas season, its sights, sounds, smells and activities swell me. But today, sadly, I began its dismantling. Garlands were gathered, lights looped, cards collected, and beautiful baubles bagged and boxed. The porcelain baby, sheep, Mary and Joseph were carefully paper swaddled and packed, their service suspended for the next eleven months. I quietly pray I don’t pack up the flesh and spirit Jesus, even for a moment, desperately needing Him always near.

Bit by bit my outdoor display was reduced back to its original form; wire, string, green rope lights, and gold garland. It had for these last few weeks whimsically framed the front door, up one side, over the top, and down the other side in swirls and curls, finishing in a long trail along the front of the house. A passerby during installation was prompted to offer his fond opinion of its “Whoville” reference, unintended on my part. As I undecorated, I couldn’t help but feel like I was doing the wrong thing, repeatedly, but at the end of my feelings I knew I had disassembled beyond a point of salvage, and I did not have the heart to begin a reassembling.

Besides, it really was time for some fresh.

The wind determinedly pulled a cold front from the north, nearer.  I could feel the temperature change in the couple hours spent outside. In my long sleeves I was cool, on the edge of cold, but the coolness felt too good to do anything about. The briskness was refreshing, and I liked it. I opened the windows to let the cool crisp outdoor air in, infusing my stale indoors, not warm or humid enough for the air conditioner to kick on and circulate it. Within minutes the whole inside was marvelously freshened. Christmas clutter out, fresh, in.

The Christmas tree is still up, well, my odd version of a tree anyway. No dropped needles, no fresh pine scent, it is simply branches painted white, clumped and secured around a pvc pipe, with a couple tied on horizontally. White lights and white garland line most branches, though a few sticks were left bare. My most admired ornaments line them in such a way that each could be appreciated. A white paper chain creates airy, slight swags. Vintage mercury glass balls and baubles, dangle. One of my favorites, artistic liberty taken in its creation, a vellum angel hovering over a gold wire and mesh nest, where a tiny baby swaddled in cotton, lay sleeping. The tree topper is a large gold tinsel wrapped ball, stuck through with skewers to which varied, small sized gold balls, were added on each skewer end. The result, a nod to a Mid-Century-Modern atomic star. My son Jamey, who is a MCM aficionado, used his own artful eye to assemble it as the topper of my tree design for a local outdoor Christmas display, a couple years ago. It just so happened to be the perfect addition for my personal Christmas décor, this year. I was thrilled to get to use it again, especially as it was a nice reminder of time spent with him, working together for several Christmas seasons, on those events. I left the tree up, maybe just ‘till tomorrow, maybe for another week, who knows. It so far, does not detract from my craving for fresh.

And finally, the crisp, cool air delivered through open windows, stirs the scent of hanging, air-dry, fresh washed laundry, as I am about to take my bath after a full day of tasks. I’ll add Christmas gift bubbles, light a Christmas gift candle, and further splurge with a gift of Christmas chocolate. I expect the experience altogether to cleanse and soothe me to sublime freshness. My freshly laundered gown and robe await, and when the time comes, I will slip me into fresh, smooth sheets.

Then, just like that, the third day of a new year, will end. Already three days of 2018’s history, written.

The fresh is but a moment, a split second ahead just as quickly becoming behind. Oh, how I love the fresh, the looked forward to, the possibilities. I love new year’s, clean sheets, fresh air. I love Monday’s, fresh beginnings to fresh new weeks.

Fresh is not easy to maintain. Dirty clothes pile up, clutter accumulates, stink happens.

I make a fresh commitment here on this early January day, to be a better me, already exasperatingly cognizant of the fact that I will fail,

too often,

but when I do fail, I will say to myself, yup, big fail, and as a new next breath comes, so too does a new next chance to get it right, or at least right-er.

A fresh chance, with each, and every, breath.

Every breath a fresh chance.

Remarkable, really.

P.J.

I don't think it's possible to go wrong with Christmas lights!

Early January Prayer

Oh Lord, how I need the fresh, and a refreshing, hopeless outside of You. The old year is out and the new in, but the old one’s stink lingers, for so many. Pains, too great to bear, Dave and Cheryl, Mindy, Sylvain, Susan, Shawn and Sherry, Nancy, Michelle, Diane, Marie, Betty, and more, many more, are not bringing loved ones with them across this yearly threshold of time. They have expressed the freshness of soul wounds in their deep loss, not so able to fully join in while the world cheered on the holidays.

Lord, there are many who begin the new year without freshness, as they have no choice but to bring the old baggage of illness, injury, or heartbreak, heavy burdens that they are, with them into the new year. The two Kathy’s, the two Danielle’s, Brian, Rebecca, Helen, Wyatt, Ed, Peggy, and again, many more, pray for reprieve and healing. Lord, I pray it for them. I find hope in knowing You are the Great Physician, may these have that hope too. And for Garry, Bella, and Annie who know Your healing, I am grateful that hope is real, in You.

There have been 2017 highs that could only have been orchestrated by Your divine hand. Oh Lord, life changing, life enhancing moments too beautiful to write into our stories, if they were ours alone to write. Children have been added, four to my family alone, amazing! Gatherings of loved ones have been celebrated. Travels have provided together time, exploration, re-union, and refreshment. Job opportunities grew bank accounts, and paid off a mortgage. A first home was purchased. Generosity was given, and received. Health and well-being, enjoyed. Friendship stakes driven deeper, and surer, caring for one another. You Lord, have given good gifts in 2017. Even while Your adversary prowls, seeking whom he may devour, he is powerless to overcome Your goodness and light.

These lives we live are a crazy oxymoron, Lord, of sorrows and joys, and You know it, and feel it all with us, as a loving Father does his precious children. Your mercies are new every morning, and we know it, as children of a loving Father, who in the middle of every imaginable chaos stretches a hand to be pulled into the escape, into You, where peace is found despite turmoil. I say thank You, embarrassingly aware it is vastly inadequate in comparison to the abundance of Your endless love and care for me, yet, I must say it. I must live it.

Thank You, Lord, Thank You, Lord, Thank You, Lord

In the name of Jesus, Emanuel, God with us, in this 2018^th year I pray, amen.

P.J.