I'm a Calendar Girl

It's been an odd week.

I'm not sure if it is from slowing down and listening to my body, my heart, my spirit. What I need, what I want, what's good for me, what's bad for me, but it's been a quiet week. I find myself just sitting and thinking. Walking and thinking. I find myself feeling odd and awkward at human interaction. I feel fragile and vulnerable. I feel at the beginning of life, or a new season. I feel my old skin, my winter skin, dry and heavy at my feet. I feel tired from the wintry depression I so often find myself in. And yet, there are quiet strings of hope and faith. I find them in odd places as I stand by my old shed skin. I find them in the prayers I have written on scraps of paper and stuck in jars and boxes all over my room. I find them in the smile of a friend when they greet me. I find it in the 70 degree January day. And I find it those deep, still waters that haven't left me yet.

I feel like Jo, in Little Women (which to date, is still one of my all-time favorite movies) when she refuses Laurie and finds out that Amy is going to Europe with Aunt March instead of her.* She knows she's made the right decision, but where to go from there? And what to do when being on the right path feels so odd. So, I'll sit wrapped up in Marmee's arms, but then, it's off you go. "Oh, Jo. Jo, you have so many extraordinary gifts; how can you expect to lead an ordinary life? You're ready to go out and - and find a good use for your talent. Tho' I don't know what I shall do without my Jo. Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it." And, we'll see what comes of it.

And it's like a red bird in winter. If you haven't, read the poem "Red Bird" by Mary Oliver. In fact, there is a red bird who often finds himself resting in the bare branches in my backyard in moments where I find myself overwhelmed with anger, sadness, or general discontentment. And he reminds me that even though it's winter, the red bird will still come. At that, I'm always undone.

I don't mean to sound to somber. It's not like that entirely. I have joy and love and hope that is real. I find myself taken, though, by the shadows of fear, for what these next few months might contain, and insecurities. But, just because you're standing in shadows, doesn't mean the light is gone. Just readjust. I'm learning to trade hiding in shadows for resting in shade, but sometimes I forget.

Nothing gives my strings of hope and faith more strength than the reminder that though I feel lost, I'm still found. That I can be both a little bit lost, and a little bit found.

Well, until next time.

P.S. The soundtrack to this post is "Calendar Girl" by Stars. Beautiful.

*I'm not saying that I recently refused any sort of marriage proposals. Hell, I'm not saying I refused a date. That's plot point is moot, in my case.