I started 2013 by taping this picture from Real Simple on the mirror in our bedroom. You know, for moral support and all.
It was both the first and last thing I saw every day that motivated me to dream for better things. And I believed it was true – that 2013 was the year of new jobs, and big breaks, and healing, and wholeness, and moving on.
It didn’t happen the way we thought it would, but it was completely that year. Even though we didn’t get the job we were hoping for, or the big break we dreamed of, or the feeling of moving more than one step forward. What I found was that 2013 was my year of recalibration. Of setting certain things right in my soul. Of crying over some wounds and then finally letting go. Of visiting the past, appreciating and learning with older, wiser eyes, and then moving on. It was a year of reflection and consideration, of dreaming new dreams and laying others to rest. A year for me to think even a little about what might possibly be next. This was my year, not like I originally expected, but my year none-the-less.
It was no coincidence that after setting up my motivation, I began reading the book Anonymous by Alicia Britt Chole, and then ended the year by reading The In-Between by Jeff Goins. Of the many lessons I’ve come to learn through the wisdom of those two authors what I took away most from the first was that God is present in my moments of motherly hiddenness, and from the second, that days of waiting are indeed one of life’s most precious gifts.
We made the decision to leave our jobs to come home and start over nearly five years ago. Five years ago. At the time, it felt like life stopped for us and the thought that consumed my heart was that everything would be better once we got going again. I would be less anxious. We’d own a home again, and we’d have wonderful jobs again, and life would be safe and neat and secure. Then life would begin, and everything would make sense, and I’d tie up those experiences with a precious red bow and call it a day.
Life doesn’t work that way for you either, does it?
Five years later we are far from the feeling of being really settled, or owning a home, or any of those wonderful things I thought would make me believe life had started again. And for more time than I’d like to admit I have believed the lie that life was stopped, and all I could do was wait for it to begin again.
How wrong I’ve been. I am weary from the toll of living like today doesn’t count as much as a perfect tomorrow. Today is what I have, and today I will live and breathe and love like it means something important. Because it does. It always does.
This is the day the Lord has made; [I] will rejoice and be glad in it. (NKJV Emphasis mine)
2013 was my year of recalibration and 2014 is my year of seizing days – the good ones and bad ones for all they are and all they will grow in me.
Carpe diem on friends. Carpe diem on.