A New Beginning

I published the post below at the beginning of 2013. When I read it this morning, I was struck by the truth of it, and how much I needed to hear that truth. The union I had with my husband for forty-five years–since my childhood, really, and three-quarters of my lifetime–ended this year with his death. (I almost wrote ‘unexpected death’, but aren’t we really kidding ourselves with that? Death is part of living.) I have been thrust into a new beginning in a strange country, where half the time I do not speak the language and have a sense of being every bit an alien.

I have several friends who have slogged through some large heartbreaks in 2013. Perhaps you have as well. For you, I place the last paragraph of the post right here, just incase you are in too much of a hurry to read to the end. It is my prayer for all of us:

I have many hopes and dreams for the coming year. I’m sure you do, too. I pray that you get to experience half of them, maybe the most important is to keep on going and looking for the miracles.

* * * * *

Another year comes to a close, stating the obvious. Writing the title of this post, I suddenly see: whenever there is an ending, there is a new beginning. Endings and beginnings go together. We may not care for the ending, sometimes an ending is horrible in that moment, other times it is a great relief to be done with something, but always there is some sort of new birth, and always the new birth comes out of what ended.

Sweetie-pie and I took a walk around to see the yard. These photos are from today. The hydrangea leaf buds above come out of the mild and, thankfully, fairly wet winter. Everyone told me it would rain every afternoon here, but people say a lot of things. That is buds from the native yellow rhododendron to the right. Last summer I pruned the straggly bush quite heavily. These new buds of life are at one of the cuts. That’s the way of life. A lot of growth has gone on below, in the dark soil, where I added compost and the rain soaked it down. All that comes on the bush comes from what was last year.

Look at this– it is an aloe bloom! The first I have ever in my life experienced.

I can name 2012 as my year of the aloe bloom. A surprise, a gift, a marvel. The information I found on the internet said that only well-cared-for aloe plants, ones that get everything they need just so, will bloom. Well, look at the plant this bloom came out of.

I sat the plant there last spring, and it has been on it’s own. It has struggled through drought and heat and cold–last night was 30 degrees. I don’t know what to say to it, except I have learned that miracles happen every day, if we will but see them.

As I write this, my grandson is over at the ancient Royal typewriter, banging on the keys. He brings me a piece of paper. It has faint imprints of red ink! My gosh, the thing has to be sixty years old! It was a gift from my dear father-in-law, gone many years now, and here is his 5-year-old great-grandson playing with it. Life does go on.

I have many hopes and dreams for the coming year. I’m sure you do, too. I pray that you get to experience half of them, maybe the most important is to keep on going and looking for the miracles.

Blessings,
CurtissAnn