The New Year brings that time for reflection. “What do I have to show for this revolution of the Earth ’round the Sun?” Birthdays, too, often cause us to reflect on another 365 days of life and how we’ve used them. Fortunately, for me, my birthday is only a couple of weeks away, and I can dispense with this dutiful existential examination of my belly button lint this month and move on.
You should be so lucky.
2011 brought me some important events…
1) Somehow or ‘nother, I made the Jayme Daily, the same week I opened my Twitter account. I don’t think I’ve tweeted since. It’s weird and awkward. Or I am.
2) Somehow or ‘nother, I lived through the adjustment to bringing another member into the family. I now know that it will be the job of a lifetime, and yeah, Michelle Duggar can bring new humans into the world until it kills her, but it will not be as hard as helping adopted people find their place in this world. God made us all for a purpose, Michelle for hers and me for mine
and never the twain shall meet. I ask Him what He was thinking… a lot.
3) I can now officially say I have heard the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life. You know that one Katy Perry song? The first line of that song says, “Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?”
You know what, Katy? Maybe. I’ve never thought about it, but this could explain my recent feelings of worthlessness. I am feeling like a plastic bag.
Or is it euphemism for an older lady who’s had a lot of cosmetic procedures… You know, “Plastic”. “Bag”.
In my life.
And the best, because several times a day, I say, in the girls’ hearing, “Mickey, that just makes me feel like a plastic bag.”
The girls are just beside themselves.
Hilarity. Stupid. Hilarity.
I dare 2012 to serve up anything more stupid than that.
It’s also time to decide how I am going to write on this big blank piece of paper called the new year. The reason for “resolutions”(such a quaint old word), is that looking back on the wanton wildness of the last year should inevitably bring to mind areas of my life that could stand an overhaul. Or at least a little attention.
Yeah, I have been doing that, too.
1) I have to take better care of my health. Across the board. I would go into detail, but you’ve heard it all before. I don’t have any real plan mapped out.
2) Yet, again, the desktop is out of commission and I am on Mickey’s work machine. Which shines the light on my inconsistency and lack of a plan… I need a plan.
3) I have to school the fire out of these children. For all my bluster, they really still appear to believe they are running the show. As testified to by their exceptionally saucy mouths.
Even though there appear to be 3 items in the above list, there really is only one. I have to grow up and get organized.
I seriously contemplated quitting the blog over the last several days, but I looked back over it. And decided to see about going with my strengths. (I have given up the fight for a well made Cherry Dr. Pepper Limeade,
but a Lemonberry Slush is almost as good.) I find that when I look back, there is a clear difference in the types of responses and I had to decide what I was here for.
I have had a couple of interesting experiences this last few weeks.
–someone told me I was smart. Intimidating smart. I think that is weird.
–someone else called me out on being totally snippy and not a joy on Christmas in the nicest way, “God has just laid it on my heart to pray that you will be able to find joy in the day”. I was in a place where I said, “Thank you, I really need that.” And you know what I realized? Christmas isn’t Mother’s Day. I am a pretty selfish gal.
–I got to be with friends this week. It was just a nice week. Backbreaking. Non-stop. Refreshing. Exhausting. Abundant. More weirderness.
On the threshold…
ready to close the door on all that.
Like forcing a too-full closet door shut.
There is pain and loneliness in there.
There is hunger and hard decisions.
I am not afraid to open the new door.
An empty room.
One nice wooden easel with a canvas
No stink of failure soaked in these walls
the junk hasn’t blocked
Back turned to Him
these last few months.
Still He beckons to the pure unwritten page.
Adores. Waits. Plans for me.
Trusting is harder
I have nothing to lose
stepping through the door.