The Year of the Dead Eyed Shuffle

I was in a new year frame of mind last week. I even chose my One Word for the year. My annual weapon against resolutions and inevitable despair. A simple mantra and ongoing prayer all rolled into one.

I didn’t choose the words that first came to mind when I thought of the year to come, the ones that I try not to say in front of children. I may want to cross stitch this on a pillow some day. Though, come to think of it, that would be a kickass cushion.

But I was going for something more cheesy uplifting…

So here it goes:

2015, the year I will learn to “Treasure” what matters most.

Even now. Especially now. In the midst of all the horrible and crazy.

I was: Determined to be fully present, deeply grateful for each special moment and person in my life; Optimistic, filled with purpose, resolving to write/exercise/eat healthy/go to bed early/parent heroically… every single day… without exception; Deluded, convinced that I would, that nothing could hold me back.

The Crappy New Year of Cancer was not going to keep me down!

I am an Overcomer. Lover of Life. Maker of Lists. Unstoppable.

Did I mention deluded?

And so very stoppable.

It’s hard to say what tapped the brakes first. It was the culmination of a hundred little things. The stomach flu. Twisting my ankle. Traffic to and from the hospital every other day. A leaky toilet. Trying to keep a sick, needy boy separate from his immuno-suppressed, equally needy sister. My husband chipping his tooth on a brownie. A nightmare trip to an ill equipped local ER. A hole in my favourite sweater. A broken closet door. Another nasty infection landing B in children’s hospital after only three weeks at home.

Suffice it to say, my new year state of mind didn’t last long. Cue despair. Tears. Who was I kidding?

My prayers often start with one word. “Really. Really?”

This is our life. I can’t wish it, or manage it, or sheer positive will-power it better. I can’t even pray it better. I can’t do anything to change most of what’s coming our way this year.

But I can treasure it. Not in that phoney “let’s-pretend-this-shit-smells-sweet” denial way. In digging out what we can. In the glimpses of beauty, the sudden rush of fierce love and the bizarre epiphanies that only suffering supplies. In the everyday riches and common grace that slips below the radar. In the peach fuzz of a bald head, the passionate absurdity of a tantrum, the predictable rhythm of sibling conflict, even the easy comfort of an equally weary love.

I may not stride purposefully through 2015 as I hoped. I may not skip and dance in triumph. I expect it’ll be more of a zombie-esque lurch. One foot in front of the other. Sometimes I’ll stop dead in my tracks. But even then, through tears and exhaustion I’ll appreciate the smallest momentum all the more.

So here’s us, embracing life in all its magic and misery. What else is there to do?

Linking up to oneword365.com