On the Twelfth Day of Christmas!

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Happy Epiphany! It’s been a very full 12 days (in the best way). My mother came to celebrate this year, all the way from New York, so that was a very special treat. Christmas Day was spent in luxurious relaxation. Having gone to the Vigil Mass, I never even got out of my pajamas. Normally, we go to services of Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, but something–or Someone–was telling me this year to just stay. Be still. Be present. How do you say no to that?

With no homeschool to clutter our schedule, we unwound completely for about a week. Then, around New Year’s the itch to reengage began, and I’ve been reevaluating, reinventing, renewing my vision. I’ve shifted a few things around. I’m tossing out some old habits and starting to try out new ones. We’ll see where they go. I tend to be a both-feet-first, into-the-breech kind of girl when it comes to resolutions, but after a time I find my stumbling way toward a more moderate middle-ground. I’m sure something of the kind will happen again. The good news is, even my at-the-get-go deep-end-dives aren’t so deep and reckless as they used to be. Maybe I’m finally learning to mellow. Ha!

On the 2nd, we headed out to a little town in the Cascades for a cozy cabin-stay and a jubilant romp in the knee-deep snow! I have no trouble admitting I was a completely child. I sledded. I made snow angels. So did my husband. Then we came inside and cuddled up with s’mores and needlework and Little Women and had just the loveliest time. We had to pack-up almost as soon as we’d unpacked, since we could only stay one night, but it was so worth it. The next morning, we took a horse drawn sleigh ride. (What you can’t see from the pretty photos is when Spice decided to melt down completely, screaming that she would “Never be warm again!” and causing not a few passengers to question our citified use of wellies. They were wearing wool!! Sigh. That girl has been the holy death of my pride, and in my better moments, I thank her for it.) The only wish I had was that it could have lasted longer.

So this is it. The last hurrah. Twelve drummers drumming. Another Christmas is in the books. Tomorrow, we’ll take down the tree, unstring the lights, and pack our crèche away. There will be an austere beauty in the white space, and something in me will begin to unfold. When the celebration is over, I hear His voice, still and small and oh so near: Wasn’t that fun? But wait, love… It’s just the beginning.

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