Saturday, December 1, 2012

had the time of my life fighting dragons with you

December First, my friends. December First.
December signals the beginning of the end, which is terrifying, but also exciting. The end of the year contains all the beautiful things: like Advent wreaths, and Advent candles, and Gaudete Sunday, and Christmas, and Christmas cookies, and Christmas Mass, and Christmas smells, and Christmas Carols, and Christmas magic. 
Mostly a lot of Christmas magic.

As this Liturgical Year ends, I spent most of it journaling, recording, looking back over the year. Counting my blessings, re-living the sorrows, but in the end marveling at the future that all the tomorrows of next year bring. That's what I love about journaling. As you look back over your life, as you delve into your memory, it allows you to rejoice in where you are now. Remembering gives you the strength and grace to move forward. The substance of all the things hoped for has not yet manifested itself-- except in the little seed of Faith in my heart.

I always grow so overwhelmed if my records can't keep up with the speed of life passing me by. I feel unable to grasp the large picture being painted with my life, of which each day is a little brushstroke. And if I can't understand the portrait of my own life, then I struggle to see how it fits into the even larger masterpiece of the world. And then I feel all lost and (a word my friends are fond of) floopy. Without diving into my memories and writing them out, I feel floopy. Like a leaf in the wind: blindly just riding the currents of air. Although writing down all the eternal moments is often a laborious process. But memory is the soil in which that little seed of faith can take root and flourish.

When I write down the past year, it allows me to close that chapter, turn the page to a new era.
Once I arrive at the ending, I realize I'm at the beginning all over again.

Once upon a time, there was a cloud. 
And then she ended. 
The end. 
This is the ending: And then she began again.

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