reason to believe

that this year will be better than the last.  A lyric from a song.  Actually about a long December, but November isn't that far off.  We mark time in many ways and January 1st never was particularly memorable for me.  Birthdays.  Mine.  My kids.  Change of seasons.  Novembers.  For some it's April. 

One of my favorite people has started blogging again.  She could

do nothing but post photos of her doggies and I would be glad.  She made Squam possible.  We all make things possible for ourselves and for those we haven't yet met.

About a year or so ago I crossed paths with Jen Lee in New York at a blogger event that was sort of out of character for us both.  But I remembered her very distinctly when we met again this past July in Chicago during BlogHer.  And again in September at Squam.   If it's hard to see change in yourself, hard to see the distance from where you are now and where you were then.  If it's hard to picture you a year from now, five years from now---watch someone else.

I don't mean become a fan of someone.  I don't mean try to emulate them.  Just watch.  Be with them.  Stay open to the possiblity that your path and theirs may cross again one day.  Dream big with other big dreamers.

It isn't easy doing more than you thought you were capable of.  But watch those you admire, watch those who make you smile, listen to their dreams unfolding.  It's almost braver to accept sometimes that the big dreams are only realized in tiny steps, imperceptible day to day changes.

I see myself five years ago, sitting in a corner of our living room mumbling under my breath trying to make sense of a how-to-knit book while my husband tried in vain to quiet a squawking baby.  I see myself this past September, finding myself walking alongside Jenny Doh for a few moments, having the chance to talk art and motherhood and knitting.  

You might think at most that if I hadn't ever taught myself to knit, Jenny and I might not have had anything to talk about.  Honestly, if I never taught myself to knit, I wouldn't have been there at Squam at all.  Not this past year, not any year I don't think.   

There are only so many hours in the day, so many ways to refine what is important to us.  But when events leave you changed, leave you more than grateful for the only chance you'll need to understand the import of choosing just the few most important things in your life, well then it becomes so much easier not to worry that the big dreams will never happen for you.

Just now that former screamer of a baby thrust a notebook in my hands, made me correct her hand drawn multiplication quiz.   I totalled up the fifteen correct answers and handled it back to her. 

"I can't believe it!" she exclaimed.

Belief and disbelief arent' so very far apart, are they?  There is both a hope and confidence in believing that is so necessary.  There is also a kind of joy in receiving what you didn't believe possible.   Sometimes it's more profound than math problems, sometimes not.   Yes, this year will surely be better than the last.

And when I think of the year ahead, when I look back to Squam and watch the slideshow just one more time, I think instead of these lyrics:

On certain Sundays in November
When the weather bothers me
I empty drawers of other summer's
Where my shadows used to be
She is standing by the water
As her smile begins to curl
In this or any other summer
She is something all together different
Never just an ordinary girl

Maybe one day I'll tell you why I can't stand the rain in November, but maybe by this time next year I won't need to.  Instead I'll focus on more important things like decluttering the toys in time to make the 4 o'clock deadline for drop-off at the charity thrift store.   I'll focus on the laugh I had when I saw Amy's comment on that post. We are always moving on, always decluttering.  Sometimes it's tangible and embarassingly obvious as with that post.  Sometimes it's a quieter joy, a more balanced gratitude.

Comments

[sherri]

I don't know how to properly comment on such a beautifully written post. I don't know how to say it put a lump in my throat, and somehow humbled me. So I will just say how much I love this. And you.