It's New Year's Day. And although I am trying to learn to live in the moment and not the past or future, it's very hard today not to reflect on what I did and did not accomplish or experience last year, and what I hope to do and be in the 12 months ahead.
Here is where I am, now: in a somewhat cluttered "office" at home, writing. The girls are in the kitchen making up stories about giants and sculpting villages for dragons out of clay, and D. is building the kind of aesthetically pleasing million-degree scorching hot fire in our wood-burning stove that only an Eagle Scout can build.
My feet are cold, because I like the lovely idea we've adopted of not wearing shoes in the house, but as much as I exercise regularly, my feet represent a large surface area to warm and my circulation sometimes doesn't manage. But other than that, I'm fine.
How could I not be? I've had 12 hours of sleep and there's nothing pressing that I have to do today. And most importantly, I'm surrounded by a healthy, happy family in a dry home with food in the pantry and all those other countless blessings that are forgotten - until we see so many people in the world suddenly left with nothing. I can't help but remember that this is not a happy new year for millions of the people on this planet. It sobers me, and just like a death in the family can do, it strengthens my resolve to live a meaningful life and not take for granted the many kinds of wealth I've been given, but instead share them, spread them out, connect, and make a difference.
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