Sunday, November 18, 2012

On Change

(Written about 10 days ago, just slow to post)

I'm still alive and kicking it here in fire-burning flood-ridden snow-falling Saratoga Springs Utah, just amazed by and enjoying the changes in my life.

I remember when my old life came tumbling down in an instant, in a moment, and how I felt so sorry for myself for so long.  I remember thinking, "Who does this kind of thing even happen to, except maybe Job?" (Good ol' Old Testament Job).

And here I am now, in the same beautiful place, with a brand new life, so sweet and fulfilling, I can only think, "Who does this kind of thing even happen to, except maybe Job?"  

That is the yin and the yang of life, that the blessings rise up to equal the trials.  That's where justice makes itself known.

Every day is different, every day there is something new, and more to learn.  I remember my Dad once telling me that there were two things for certain in this life- death, and change. Everything changes, accept it.  Embrace it. Or choose to be miserable.

It's snowing outside,and the trees are all but bare, their cold and tender branched hold on tightly to the last memories of summer 2012. Our fireplace is burning, and the dogs are soaking wet, rolling around in the yard, and the cat is cozily curled up with her head on my knee, exhausted after her episode of being thrown in the tub this morning by Olivia. (You should have seen all the fur and water in our bathroom. I can't stop laughing about it). 


 Yesterday it was nearly 70 degrees and the trees in my yard were adorned with brilliant orange and red leaves, and the cat stayed dry. Yesterday our driveway was covered in the sweetest message, the kindest words that gave me warm fuzzies every time I came home. Today the same driveway has been washed clean by the moisture, proclaiming itself ready for a reply from me. What a change!

 I think of my old self, the one who absolutely loathed winter.  All it took was one sweet man who brought me the most magical season of snow last year to change that. 

 I love the cold, the ice, the snow.  It reminds me of my Dane, starting my vehicle to warm it up for me unexpectedly, and how he would laugh at me when I would be looking for my keys, and tell me to look in the driveway.  

I think of him bearing frigid temperatures and falling sleet to walk me to my car in his pajamas, and how he would tease me that it was a "Lexxus" (which it wasn't) and no matter how cold or wet or windy it was, he would stand out there and watch me drive away until I was out of sight.



 It brings back the memory of how we had hot chocolate by the fireplace night after night until we ran out of whipped cream, and so we decided to used ice cream instead, and now there is simply no other way to drink hot chocolate, except enriched and foaming with a scoop of ice cream. Pumpkin was my favorite, it would melt into a bubbly froth and rise to the top of the mug and bring a delightful sweet spice flavor to the drink.  Mint chocolate chip was a close second; the chocolate would melt and sink to bottom of the drink to be polished off with a rich sweet ending.





I remember the sanctuary his home became to me. The fire would be burning any time I gave notice of my arrival, and I would take off my boots and lay on the carpet while the heat from the flames would warm my back. I fell asleep there, on the floor, countless times, exhausted from the trials of divorce and the challenges of being a single mom.  My Dane would bring me blankets and pillows and tenderly smooth back my hair as I rested. It was a small piece of heaven, with flames that healed and did not burn, found unexpectedly in a time that was supposed to be consumed with unquenchable hellfire.  

I remember standing in his living room and looking out the back window, studying the way the snow would fall. the flakes came down, large and soft, in a splendorous dance, joyously giving silent praise to their Creator. My eyes would drift to the large building that stood adjacent to his backyard, and I couldn't help but smile about the irony of being so close, and yet, so far from each other.  How many times had I gone to meetings in that same building, not knowing that my destiny lay so close. It was just a stones throw away, and I had no idea.  And, yet, I am so grateful things happened just the way they did, had I met him a day earlier than I did, things would not have been right.  Some changes in this life are so near, yet unseen. Like the next world they can be just a moment, a breath, a heartbeat away.

 I used to dread this time of year, the short days and dark nights. although I could admit it was beautiful, like a pale thin snobby supermodel can have outward beauty, it was something that did not appeal to me, something I could view only with disdain.  I would get depressed even thinking about it's imminent arrival. And now winter is the same, cold and snowy, but I am different. I hope to create a repeat and improvement over the next few months on all the great things that gave me such a change of heart.



Jack shows off his latest piece of artwork- pencil on a "door canvas".







3 comments:

CountessLaurie said...

Whoa, ice cream in hot chocolate? BRILLIANT! Love the pics, love the idea of laying in front of a fire... delicious post! Thanks for sharing it!

Allyson & Jere said...

Awesome! SO glad that you're still kicking around and that you're so happy. I was thinking about you the other day, wondering how you were. Thank you for the great words. Change is my arch nemesis, but you're right, it is inevitable and I REALLY need to learn how to accept it and move on, no matter the circumstance. Now, will we ever get to see your knight in shining armor or what? Sheesh!

Megan said...

I just got an error trying to comment, so this may be a repeat in sentiment.

I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your writing style. I felt the heat of the fireplace and the cushion of the carpet. I could feel the tenderness and love you received and am so happy that you had that kind of love in such a terrible time in your life.

Love that you recognize what you experienced, that you lived it, marked it for the significance it was and can savor it now.

I'm so happy for you.