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I stepped out onto the porch in my fuzzy white bathrobe this morning where Hubs was having a pipe. I carried my new prized possession, a refurbished and beautiful iPad Air. With surprise in my voice I said, "I think I'm falling in love with a red one!"
I'd been shopping online for a cover for this first big purchase with my paycheck from my new job. He laughed because I had been saying that I wanted a black cover because it made more sense. But every time I saw the red cover online it made me smile, and I was deciding that a smile makes more sense than making sense.
For some reason this feels like it connects to the fact that I am dreading filling out the final page of the journal I have been pouring my heart into for the last few years.
May have something to do with identity and how I thought we would find it once and for all in "old age", but I keep surprising myself lately. I keep recalculating and finding myself going in an entirely different direction than planned. This thought makes me happy and excited...but also scared and reluctant to let go of the past.
The first words in this old green journal say, "It feels unreal that Mom passed away 19 days ago. I wake up each morning to sadness that it is still true. Six weeks from her diagnosis to her death was not enough to adjust to its reality."
Why don't I want to close the last page on a journal that heard my pain about death, serious job loss, an awful motorcycle accident and food stamps? Five years of deep loss and severe self-doubt that sent me spinning spiritually and emotionally.
I was slow to write in this last journal. Weeks slipped by between entries, sometimes even months. The span of this journal is longer than any other I have used over the years. I do not like to journal when I am unhappy or depressed or lost. Some pages will be about my confusion and prayers that consist of the words, "Help me God, please." Then it begins to feel useless and empty and I let the journal collect dust next to my bed.
But this journal ends with happy entries about the cutest and brightest grandson in the world being added to our family, writing my book and my new job as a preschool teacher. The grandkid and the job have changed my life DRAMATICALLY! I do not even recognize my life anymore!
Which brings us back to the first paragraph up there. Who is this lady who would choose a bright red iPad cover over the more sensible black? The church lady who always did the correct thing at the correct time for the correct reasons seems to be lost. Maybe it's just an age thing. Passing 60 makes one decide that a smile is better advice than common sense. (Oh I like that! You can quote me on that one!)
I am ready to close that sad journal and move on to the new one that waits for me with fresh white pages. This new chapter will include stories about my silly 2 year old grandson, more silly stories about the ten 2 year olds that I teach and this unrecognizable and busy life that fills me with joy.
I'm a writer, a teacher, a Jesus lover, a devoted wife, grandma, mother and mother-in-law. My identity is fluid. Waiting for it all to make sense is senseless.
Letting a smile guide me in my decisions is my earned wisdom.
|New journal! This makes me smile too.|