Gentle January

 

On the day before New Year's Eve, I went to bed with my mind teeming with plans for the next day.  I wanted to clear off the patio, a goal that's been on my list for all of Fall and now into the beginning of Winter.  I wanted to hang the pictures I had framed and matted for the kitchen in October, and the plates and platters I brought in from the shed at the beginning of December, too.

I needed to go into town to run errands, to mop the rest of the house (did the kitchen that day), and many more tasks.

When I woke on New Year's Eve, I had a headache.  My foot ached.  

I took time to give myself some self-care, still thinking of all I wanted to do to finish off the year.  "Come on", I said.  "Let's finish this year off strong.  Tomorrow I can take the whole day off and then on Friday, the 2nd day of this New Year I'll start off strong and hard and really tear up the New Year."

And that's when it happened.  My spirit balked.   I felt it, but I did my best to ignore it.

I started my day.  I fixed coffee, breakfast, sat down to write morning pages and opened mail, launched right into Bible study.  After breakfast, I found myself sorting out the bathroom closet, making the bed, straightening the closet, putting away paperwork that needed to filed, looked for the charger I'd lost for my new camera, cleaned up the kitchen, checked the guest bath and bedroom where the kids played yesterday, tidying as I went through each room and finally circled back around to the Bible study I'd started and never finished.  By then it was almost 11:30....and I'd gotten up early!  My head pounded.

I forced my broken toe into a proper pair of shoes and went into town to run my errand.  I decided to go into Dollar General.  I lost track of time, and spending, as I wandered the aisles looking at half priced Christmas items, and picking up sundry things that I had on a mental list: Tylenol, wide head bands to restrain the hair I'm trying to grow out, half and half, double stick tape, a birthday card...You know, all those little things that never make a proper list, but you know they're things you need/want.

On the way home, I took a different route.  Probably no longer than my usual one, but different.  It's one that I drive more slowly along the road.  I rubbed my temples and looked at the clock.  1pm.  "Okay...we just won't get those things done today after all.  I'll do quiet work the rest of the day and take tomorrow off and on Friday, the second day of this brand spanking new year I'll jump in with both feet and really whip this year into..." 

I hesitated.  I felt that halt in my soul once more.  I admitted something that feels wrong and goes against every bit of the trends to improve myself, be better than the year before, to get more done, trends I've been following for years.

What felt right to me at that moment was that scenic route out of town, that slower pace, taking time to observe the changes along the road I was traveling, to appreciate the beauty and to remember the many times I'd driven that road.  To recall days with Granny picking blueberries on those steep hills, to recall that cows once watered at the pond here and that the waterwheel used to still turn on that old mill there.  That we picked muscadines along the next road.  To remember that one year, coming back from taking Katie to school, I came across a wondrous sight of fog and frost in the bottom near the creek that had turned everything into a glistening, glittering wonderland of winter.

I don't want to start off this New Year strong with a big hard push to get things done.  

I don't want to jump feet first into the year and be treading water before I make it to the end of February.  

I want to go into January gently.  I want to go into January quietly and calmly.  

I want to embrace winter.  I want to enjoy slow cooking hearty soups and stews and roasts.  Snuggling under a blanket with a good book.  Finding a chair near a sunny window and soaking in the warmth in the afternoon.  Preferably with a pen and paper to jot down thoughts but I'm quite all right with just sitting and absorbing light, too.  I want to enjoy wearing a sweater and socks around the house.  

I want to take slow walks about the property.  I want to admire the bare branches of trees against the skies and the timeless beauty of their shadows on the ground.  I want to watch birds at the feeders.  I want to watch leaves scamper across the yard when the winds roar, and the deer grazing on the front lawn.  I want to listen to the rusty school swing chains sounds of the grackles on sunny afternoons.  And the hissing whisper of sleet on rainy days

Of course, I have goals.  Of course, I want to accomplish things this year.  Of course I want to get started in January.  Of course.  

There are many things I want to do that aren't on my page of resolutions.  I'm not saying 'No' to any of them.  

I'm saying 'No' to potential burnout and frustration and a chronic tiredness that will last all the rest of the year.  Instead, I'm saying 'Yes' to enjoying the month, the winter, the quiet glory that often gets swept away in busyness and ambition.

And so that's what I'm going to do.  I'm going to let my spirit lead me as it chooses into this year. And my spirit says to do things differently, to go slow and savor, to acknowledge that this month is more than ambition.  It's a new beginning.