Musing of a new year and a new way to experience this thing called my life.

Don’t miss it …

This moment was meant to be known … lived in.

Stay here for awhile … know this moment … this day … look deep into its soul.

Learn to wear my life well … like a known pair of jeans rather than a wardrobe of accessories – many with the tags still on –  that change at whim but never truly fit or explain me.

It’s okay that a new year is slow, quiet, thoughtful. Changing my world isn’t the flash of fireworks … it’s the quiet rearranging of the thoughts that normally become roadblocks … the habits that make me sprint breathlessly to no destination in particular.

Rather … run a marathon … slowly … undeterred …. expectant and end up in a new place with a new point of view. Stop running laps … conquer new territory.

The days are falling off of the calendar. Determine to reset …  every day. Don’t rush.  Stop sprinting.

There was something about our Christmas that grabbed me this year.  The snow falling in the Pacific Northwest of all places … not only on Christmas Eve but also on Christmas Day … the calmness of the day … the re-writing of a story.

“Your sins shall be white as snow.”

It wasn’t a perfect day.  We were sick. Quiet.  No big parties. No extended family … a little lonely maybe …  grumpy at times … but it was US … my family together … the greatest treasure of my life … and it was snowing.

We delighted to tell our latest stories.  Catch up.  Crack jokes. Anticipate reactions as we stripped back the Christmas wrap and shared our offerings to one another.

I revel in my adult children.  Watching their thoughtfulness towards Mom and Dad (I tried to ignore that we now seem senior citizeny to them – even though we are not … yet) … their thoughtfulness toward each other.  They are friends … good friends.  That made me smile … tears borrowed my eyes.

Refresh … reset … don’t miss the moment … don’t miss the message.

The days are falling off the calendar, and I don’t care.  There is nothing that owns me so much that I have to miss this moment … this person … this season.

The snow is gone … and yet I see it still … I hear its soft, soft, soft landing on the soil of my heart … I feel its cool sting as it covers blemishes and hides the scars.

A new day … a fresher me.

Don’t miss the moment.

Notes to Self: Don't Miss It

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About the photos on my site:  All photos on Rashellbud, unless otherwise noted, are my own.  This winter photo wasn’t taken on the Christmas Day mentioned above, but comes from the same winter a couple of weeks earlier … just on the other side of the mountains in Eastern Washington.  No snow in this picture … just frost cold enough to scare the birds away.