New Year, Real Year

Hello, 2015.

We rang you in with a reality bang. You gave us a few inches of perfectly powdery snow -an almost poetic symbol of a clean sheet. We spent 4 billion hours dressing the children appropriately to bask in the winter wonderment which they DID

… for 20 minutes which is long enough to snap a few pictures and become totally disenchanted with the idea of a clean sheet.

New leaves and clean sheets always hold more splendor in the first twenty minutes… after the enchantment comes reality.

Our reality check came in the form of a toddler begging to build a snowman but running a 102.5 fever.
“A ‘noman?” her big, hopeful blue eyes would look up at her Dad.
“Honey,” he’d get down to her eye level, “I’m sorry, but we can’t, okay?  You’re SICK.”
Bottom lip Protrude.
Crocodile Tears Shower.
Tiny Shoulders Fall.
Big Daddy Break.

We wrapped her up tight, tight and took her outside where she became VERY angry with the snow for being COLD (the AUDACITY of NATURE -as a woman, I fully get behind her indignation), and she fell asleep against my chest. I wrapped my heavy coat around her and took a short walk in the setting sun.
Once inside, she woke up while I rocked her in the recliner and then she THREW up, coating me with an entirely different kind of sheet which was neither fresh or new.
Same old, same old reality.

Because she couldn’t build her ‘noman, we did the next best and outfitted her in warm Elsa and Ana feety PJs and gave her a bottle with chamomile tea.
So that starts our list.
Everything Alice Needs When Feverish and Bossy:
1) Elsa
2) Bottle

3) Sibling Support (“want Lace. want Twent.”)

4) A Dad

5) …with ears

6) A Dog

I’m sure I’m on that list. After all, someone needs to clean up the mess. Catch the mess? Either way, I’m here for you, child.

While the kids did their best to force the powdery snow to pack (so disappointing), I stayed inside and whipped up a fancy gluten-free substitution for my Mom’s orange rolls. I used my gluten free pancake mix, added some full-pulp orange juice to the batter and topped them off with some orange syrup. And there was much joy and rejoicing because it DID the trick! My hunger for her orange rolls was satisfied. We ate warm ham and fresh pineapple with our pancakes.
We ate from REAL plates (even though I had Styrofoam! check me out) and drank Martinelli because our kids like fancy things.

We rejoiced over the fresh snow on a holiday because it meant we could all stay home and stay close.
We rejoiced over the hot chocolate mixes on our counter because it meant we could treat ourselves on a snow holiday.
We even rejoiced over the sick baby because it meant quarantine, and there’s beauty in quarantines when your house is full of free time, new toys, and yummy food and no sharing. Ha!

I don’t know if your New Year’s Day looked like ours in some way… if you mentally prepped yourself to bask in a clean sheet. Maybe you did. Maybe you ARE. Maybe you’re still prepping, maybe you’re basking. Maybe you’ve been hit with reality. Maybe you’ve let go of the idea of clean sheets on January 1st and embrace them whenever they show up.
I don’t always make New Year’s Resolutions myself. This year I did. I’ll tell you about it in a second.
But first:

A few years ago, I made a New Year’s Resolution to read three positive wikipedia articles when I said something negative about someone else. Genius, right? You can’t remove an old habit and NOT replace it with something wonderful, right? Otherwise you’ll just be left with a gigantic empty holey vacuum in your soul, right? And that’s scary, right?
I understood this principle, yes I did. Because I read a lot of self-help articles written by intellectuals.

I was diligent and so virtuous about the whole thing. Really, I was. Each wikipedia article I read doused me with everything healthy for me: guilt, shame, a wrist slap, and a healthy education. I had successfully enrolled myself in Boot Straps Boot Camp.
Any pain aimed at me could and would be thwarted with my muscles. My bootstraps! My big girl panties!
All around me were people who WEREN’T pulling themselves up, and I would judge them. WHY? Why weren’t they pulling themselves together? Didn’t they know about the self-help articles? On occasion I would send them a few, just for good measure and to put another gold star on my mental Good Turn Daily chart. Then I’d mentally fold my mental chart up, put it away and move right along to judgement.
This is where my New Year’s Resolution came into high play.
I’d begin to give voice to my judgments, hate what I heard coming out of my own mouth and punish myself. Checks and balances, friends. It’s an age-old system that works political wonders.

I will tell you that after my Boot Straps Boot Camp came my fire.
I am here to tell you that the past 18 months of my life have been a baptism by fire. I found myself somewhere in that inexplicable corner of the universe where my emotional pain morphed into physical pain.
My heart, though it seemed safely encased in the cavity of my chest, felt as if it were bleeding out in my hands.
That’s what addiction does.

I’ve heard addicts say their choices only affected them. But I know someone (because I kind of know myself a little better now) who walked around life for years with her bleeding heart in her hands and on her sleeve and can tell you that it’s just not true.
My husband’s addiction obliterated me.

I know now that addiction isn’t about choice. It isn’t even really about substance.
I remember curling up one day when I couldn’t face the pain of my life and binge watching, “My Strange Addiction” and saw person after person consumed with the same behaviors I witnessed in my husband. It doesn’t matter WHAT the substance is… if there’s a God-hunger, the means and methods and behaviors that go along with filling it are textbook. How harrowing my judgement had become -how deeply rooted, how scathing -so much aimed at my husband.
But the more I bled out and the more the fire burned, the more I realized I, I… I… needed God. My God-hunger was simply being filled in other ways: pride, judgement, big girl panties.
I was my own Savior, I had no want.

But could I save my own bleeding heart? Could I fix or medicate the pain that flowed through me as I walked through life surrounded by people who couldn’t see my soul wreck?
Everything I once judged my neighbors for… everything I disapproved of… I DID.
I broke in that fire.
My boot straps, big girl panties, and self-help books burned FIERCELY.

Saying, “It really hurt” is honest but insufficient.

This year I don’t resolve to lose weight or get fit. I don’t resolve to eat more greens. I don’t resolve to give more service. I don’t resolve to clean more or organize my closet or read more books or read less books.

What DO I resolve to do?
I’m going to
(oh my goodness, are you ready for this?)
make a family cookbook.

Why? Because God wants me to. I feel prompted to make a cookbook filled with pictures and family quotes and things that bring me true joy. I’m having a blast, taking it slowly (my computer died again), and getting some creative ideas. I’ve titled it, “Grilling Grandma.” It will be Lacy’s dowry.

But really -when I say my New Year’s Resolution is to write a cookbook, what I’m saying in essence is that my New Year’s Resolution is to stand in the middle of life’s fire and tap into God’s incomparable offering of grace: let the fire burn my man-made defenses… pride, intellect, will! As my layers burn to ashes at my feet, the refining fire polishes my core, my center! And in that fire, I find serenity. I find calm. I find God’s will, God’s firmly gentle hand.

I find myself.
I find cookbooks.
I find life’s mess.
I find love.

If I could offer anything to you this brand new year, it would be love.

Would I need self-help with love? Would I need green drinks and Jillian Michaels and thick textbooks to FORCE MYSELF to BE BETTER so I would finally, finally LOVE MYSELF?
No.
For when I love myself, there is health. Therein is abundance.
Surprisingly, therein is imperfection.

I highly, highly recommend this book and I don’t highly recommend any self-help books, so it’s kind of a big deal for me:

And for all the mess, reality is worth it: