Paco hasn't blogged all that much this year, as a friend pointed out to me earlier today. Other than putting up a number of family photos (really one of the most important things I think I could do) and "postcard" posts, that is. This is true. Hopefully, a lack of original blogging this year has been at the expense of a greater good in my day-to-day life.
I have had my new job for almost a year now, one I was searching for a year ago at this time. I'm free from debt (knock on wood). I have done a lot more improv and have expanded my horizons, performing with new people in my troupe (while others have moved on), and like two snowflakes, no two performances have yet been the same. I even got out of town for a rare weekend for someone who doesn't take many vacations these days; yes, I even made it to the Idaho side of Bear Lake!
Every day, I wake up, get out of bed, and accomplish daily tasks, while working on monthly and yearly goals. I am reminded of the great blessing inherent in this simple fact. Goodreads just reminded me that I have read 27 books in 2017 (which will be 28 by week's end), or approximately one book every two weeks. One of those books was the Book of Mormon, which I have now read . . . I don't know how many times. I began this latest read-through in February and completed it in October.
I was involved in two car accidents in July and September, neither one my fault: rear-ended both times. I am incredibly grateful I was not injured any worse than I was (whiplash only). My car, however, required nearly $3,000 in repairs.
Like the citizens in Whoville who cry out to Horton: "I am here!" I'm still breathing. I am still ticking. In spite of the challenges I face and those I have overcome, as well as those yet to be overcome, I am grateful to be here.
Oh, and the most significant happenings of the year have occurred family wise. First and foremost, I have a fiancée(!) with whom I'd gone out on two dates a year ago today. How did I get here? How did I ever get to be so richly blessed? I may not learn the answers for a while yet. Still, it's yet another reason my heart is full of gratitude at this holiday season and my cup runneth over.
In the past three months, I've been blessed with two new nephews. The nibling count is up to 14! They are the most amazing kids an uncle could ask for.
Last but not certainly not least, one of the most important happenings of the year 2017: We lost Dad in April after a lengthy battle with dementia. Earlier today, I drove past the place where I last saw him in this mortal sphere. On that day, I had the chance to spend some time with him, embrace him, and tell him once again, "I love you." Within a few, short hours, he was gone. I will be forever grateful for the prompting to go and see him that day, to not put it off until another time.
The jogging of that memory saddened me once again for a brief moment today. We recently had our first Thanksgiving in which his chair was empty. Just a couple of weeks ago, his namesake, Tanner Brent, was given his name and blessing. And now we are in the midst of our first Christmas season without Dad. For me, the wound is a bit fresh still.
Also today, I found myself reflecting on a scene in Star Wars: The Last Jedi, which I saw for a second time (there will definitely be a few more in the coming weeks; go figure!) last night.
STOP READING HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE YET AND DON'T WANT TO READ WHAT MAY BE A MINOR SPOILER.
When Luke visits Leia, and he hands her a trinket of Han's that hung in the Millennium Falcon, he reminds her that those we love who depart our mortal existence are "ever really gone."
THIS IS THE POINT AT WHICH THE POTENTIAL SPOILER ENDS AND YOU MAY KEEP READING IF YOU WISH.
When I returned home from completing various tasks today, there was this incredibly beautiful poem on the doorstep, gifted by one of our neighbors down the street:
The girl who delivered this, I am told, lost her own mother when just three months old, after which, just a couple of years ago, she also lost her stepmother to cancer. I believe this girl is wise beyond her years. I'm speechless at this incredible gesture.
Without trying to sound too much like Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas," that's really what this Christmas season is all about; that those we lose, because of the holy child born in Bethlehem, are never really gone. And that is basically the greatest gift we could ever receive from an all-wise, all-loving Father in Heaven. With the birth of this baby is the gentle reminder that death, too, is part of the plan.
One day, we, too, will each spend our first Christmas with the Lord. In the meantime, I'm grateful to spend this one with all of you, to "have . . . a merry little Christmas now."
"And so, as Tiny Tim observed: God bless us, every one!"
Last but not certainly not least, one of the most important happenings of the year 2017: We lost Dad in April after a lengthy battle with dementia. Earlier today, I drove past the place where I last saw him in this mortal sphere. On that day, I had the chance to spend some time with him, embrace him, and tell him once again, "I love you." Within a few, short hours, he was gone. I will be forever grateful for the prompting to go and see him that day, to not put it off until another time.
The jogging of that memory saddened me once again for a brief moment today. We recently had our first Thanksgiving in which his chair was empty. Just a couple of weeks ago, his namesake, Tanner Brent, was given his name and blessing. And now we are in the midst of our first Christmas season without Dad. For me, the wound is a bit fresh still.
Also today, I found myself reflecting on a scene in Star Wars: The Last Jedi, which I saw for a second time (there will definitely be a few more in the coming weeks; go figure!) last night.
STOP READING HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE YET AND DON'T WANT TO READ WHAT MAY BE A MINOR SPOILER.
When Luke visits Leia, and he hands her a trinket of Han's that hung in the Millennium Falcon, he reminds her that those we love who depart our mortal existence are "ever really gone."
THIS IS THE POINT AT WHICH THE POTENTIAL SPOILER ENDS AND YOU MAY KEEP READING IF YOU WISH.
When I returned home from completing various tasks today, there was this incredibly beautiful poem on the doorstep, gifted by one of our neighbors down the street:
The girl who delivered this, I am told, lost her own mother when just three months old, after which, just a couple of years ago, she also lost her stepmother to cancer. I believe this girl is wise beyond her years. I'm speechless at this incredible gesture.
Without trying to sound too much like Linus in "A Charlie Brown Christmas," that's really what this Christmas season is all about; that those we lose, because of the holy child born in Bethlehem, are never really gone. And that is basically the greatest gift we could ever receive from an all-wise, all-loving Father in Heaven. With the birth of this baby is the gentle reminder that death, too, is part of the plan.
One day, we, too, will each spend our first Christmas with the Lord. In the meantime, I'm grateful to spend this one with all of you, to "have . . . a merry little Christmas now."
"And so, as Tiny Tim observed: God bless us, every one!"
No comments:
Post a Comment