Skip to main content

The days after

The presents are all opened. Only one slice of pie is left. Now what? Why do the days after Christmas always feel like a let down.
Or a relief.
Like ok, Christmas done. Let's make our exchanges and go back to
our regularly scheduled lives.
If this was a book, that was the climax.
Then all the loose ends get tied up and we all live happily ever after, or just go back to work.
The build up is over.
All we can do is take the tree down and grade papers.
Or is there?
I think this is why we like to make new year's resolutions right afterwards.

Because it doesn't feel right to just keep going as normal.

Christ was born.
Our lives should change.
And somehow all those packages and gift cards don't seem to do it for us.
So instead we promise to be better, or thinner, or whatever.
Even if it is only for a few days.
or weeks.
And then we give up,
and go back to our normal lives.
until we have something else to look forward to.

but what if we didn't?
what if you didn't make ridiculous resolutions that you can't keep.
what if we didn't forget about Christmas after we put all the decorations back in the attic?
what if we took the best things from the season and kept doing them for a while?
what if kept giving.
looking around in wonder.
singing in the car.
puting our quarters in those red buckets
you get the idea, now go try it...

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

pace yourself

Tonight I went running with a friend ten years my junior. I asked her how far she was running and when she said only about 1.5 or 2 miles, I teased her that I could go at least twice that far. And to just let me know when she needed to stop. I have been running pretty regularly for the last few weeks. It isn’t long but keep increasing my time and distance. I’ve stopped getting blisters. I don’t suck wind after five minutes anymore and I was feeling pretty good about myself. Thinking I might even be able to out run this girl who was so much younger and obviously in more shape than me. As we started to jog I told her that I run pretty slow. Like my husband used to walk beside me while I ran, slow. And she slowed her gait a little bit for me but it was still faster than I usually go. I was a little embarrassed and was not going to ask her to slow down again. So I just ran at her pace. I stayed close. And was fading fast. A little over a mile in I was ready to quit. Again, pride, which isn...
14 comments
Read more

pursue something else.

Americans like the idea of happy. of pursuing happiness. It is even one of our inalienable rights at least according to the Declaration of Independance. But I think maybe we should pursue something else. like love or joy or peace or contentment. and leave happy alone. Don't read me wrong. I am neither bitter nor cynical. Even my problems are good problems. I am positive. Half full. And most days I laugh a whole lot more than I cry. And simple things like a dance party in the living room, an hour alone in Barnes and Noble, the yellow pajama pants my son picked out for me for mother's day, potstickers, clean sheets, someone surprising me with coffee, jeans fresh from the dryer, a good song on the radio, or squeals of delight when I walk in the door all make my heart sing. They make me happy. For a minute. But when the squealing turns to screaming, my new pants are dirty, the sheets are in a jumble on the floor or the coffee runs out....where does that leave me? And happy isn'...
22 comments
Read more

my first dance

My wedding day is a little bit of a blur. And it was a great day. But so many people and so much going on and so many moments that it is hard to remember them all clearly without the help of photographs. But I totally remember my first dance as a bride. And it wasn’t with my husband. Or even my father, or brother. I had quickly kicked off my heels and hid them underneath a table. Said my hellos and hugs and smiled until my face hurt. Someone ushered us through the buffet line and I piled my plate with hors d'oeuvres and headed to a table. But before I could pop a single shrimp in my mouth someone grabbed me firmly by the arm and pulled me onto the dance floor and into a jitterbug before I could protest. It was my husband’s granddaddy. A man I had only met about a few times and heard say about as many words. So I was a little surprised when he spun me around the dance floor. Eventually that night I danced with my husband. And my dad. And probably even my brother. But my fir...
8 comments
Read more