What an odd Christmas and new year this is. My daughter, Katie and her precious poochie-pie, Luci, are harking the herald angels and toasting the new year in the Scottish Highlands. My son is providing solace and stability to his dad, a recent widower, in New York. This will be daddy’s first holiday without Susan. And Susan’s first time missing Christmas and the ball dropping in Times Square. And I am home in Walnut Grove, alone, and feeling sorry for no one, least of all myself. I am content and safe and loved. My daughter is taking a well-deserved break from her writing and teaching obligations. And my son is consoling his grieving father, while at the same time his father is mentoring Joey through the next phase of our son’s life which in this case means helping him land a job. It’s true, my son has been without work for over a year now, but being the frugal sort (he didn’t get that from me!) his stores are adequate to over-winter for perhaps another year. Funny, isn’t it, how the angels…or whoever…set things in motion, here and there, now and later, for richer or for poorer, and we manage to get along. And in some cases thrive. Yes, my family is thriving, even in this scattered, disparate state.]
It gives me hope for my country. Stripped naked, what’s left to see but potential? That may be a fat-old-woman talking, but it is true nonetheless. (Can I get an “Okay, Boomer” for that?) I see an uphill climb, and it’s looking purdy-darn-do-able. If you are alone, no you’re not. I’m here. If you are seeing the sad side, turn around. There is another side. We are so blessed, the only curse we suffer is when we won’t turn to see the blessing on the other side.
Blessings, everyone. Sometimes you have to look down to see you’re knee-deep in them.