Just a thought… Be willing to be a beginner every single morning. [Meister Eckhardt]

Here’s the written version of Monday’s vlog: 

Welcome in to a brand new year. Yes, from where I sit, it looks quite a bit like the old one, too, and yet instead of the start, we’re partway to the finish. It’s unfair that we can’t see the finish line, I know, but we just have to believe that it’s there, don’t we? That’s why I’d call this first journal of 2021 “Fireworks in the Fog.”

The holidays were a blessed blur of warmth and comfort. If you’re like me, you made the most of the situation in which we found ourselves – melancholy and all – while also embracing reasons to be grateful. And goodness knows, 2020 brought our little family four very good reasons to count our blessings: Colin, Jane, Brooke and Phil.

On Christmas morning I peeked out the living room window in hopes of seeing, not reindeer, but even one deer grazing or resting in the grassy, tree-dotted yard to set the tone for our day. Alas, there was none. But later, not one minute after mentioning that, as we were out with Rosie, Rob said, “Look up!” and there, flying low and just over our heads, was a flock of white swans.

I didn’t have time to get a picture; instead, I watched and counted 11. Of course there were (11 is a big number in our lives). Lauren was sending us a special Christmas hello, just as she did with the big bald eagle that flew past our window on our first Dec. 25 on Vancouver Island in 2016. Quite enough of a sign for me, thanks Loo.

The most accurate sign, if you will, an encapsulation of the year that is to come, appeared in a way on New Year’s Eve. As Rob, Colin and I counted down in the hot tub and watched the ball drop on a (safely distanced) computer screen at 9 pm our time, we clinked glasses and kissed. My eyes got teary as they always do at this moment and then we listened: even at the time it was in BC, three hours before our actual year change, we could hear the popping of distant fireworks.

Now, we couldn’t actually see them because of a fog that had rolled in just a few minutes earlier. Still – we knew they were there. And that, I came to believe, is as good an analogy for 2021 as there is: know that there will be cause for celebration, even if it’s far off or not within sight. We have to believe that the light and brilliance – the joy, if you will – are still there, even if we can’t see them right now. I guess that’s where faith comes in, doesn’t it?

Thank you for sharing this written version and I’ll be back with another on Thursday. We’ll let you know then the decision regarding vlogs and so on – and some thought-provoking feedback. You never disappoint.