Photo 21 of 23: At the Dairy Farm
More and more as I am here and see what life really is, I understand that it is not when or how you die but how and if you truly were ever alive. ~ Jerri Nielsen
Photo 22 of 23: Close-up of a Sundial
The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice that which we are for what we could become. ~ Charles DuBois
Photo 19 of 23: Wheelbarrow, late afternoon (again, too fuzzy, I need my eyes tested!)
Want to hear a secret that’s not rocket science at all?
This year I’m kinda scared to look forward into next year.
Where normally I’d be rubbing my hands in glee at the thought of a fresh start, these past weeks with my parents have made me very aware of what a challenge next year is going to be, dealing with their cancer. But if there is one thing I’ve learned this year, more than any other year in my life, and which I will no doubt get to learn even more, it’s this:
Keep the rhythm, because the music goes on.
And that means that I’m grabbing 2010 and running with it. Yes, it’s going to have some challenges, but that’s life, isn’t it? There are always challenges and opportunities for growth. There are always things getting in the way of our perfectly laid-out plans, testing our priorities. There are always going to be falls and spills and detours. And we are always going to pick up our compass again, re-adjust our course and keep journeying to that destination we envisioned in the first place. I like that. It gives a solidity and fluidity to life all at the same time.
Tomorrow brings the end of South Beach Steve’s Hot 100 Challenge, so there is one more post in which I will be looking back, giving my final report on this journey of a 100 days. I don’t want to spill the beans just yet, but I can already tell you that it has been one AWESOME journey.
So we stand on the cusp of a new year. (Don’t you just LOVE the word ‘cusp’? If there is ever a word filled with possibility and expectation, it’s this little word!)
South Beach Steve – unstoppable beacon of motivation that he is – has announced a new challenge, kicking off on 1 January 2010: The Perfect 10 Challenge. There is a little leeway till January 7th to leave him a comment and commit to this challenge, if you happen to be away from blogland and only catch this news flash a couple of days later. (And there’s a big prize draw for those who stick to it!) Your goals are up to you. Your progress is up to you. But be assured: You’ll be entering into a community of support and encouragement and accountability which will make an amazing difference to your journey. You will not end where you started, that’s for sure! Go on, go and read the rules, and jump right in – you know you want to!
I find the idea of setting goals for 10 weeks a grand thought. New Year’s Resolutions pale quickly, partly because they commit for an. entire. year. and we get a little overwhelmed by making HUGE changes for the REST OF OUR LIVES. I daresay we get bored, too – I know I do. But committing to yourself to do something different, something purposeful in changing your life for only the next 10 weeks, and wow: possibility opens up. 10 weeks seem MUCH more do-able, right? And best of all, after 10 weeks you can re-evaluate your course, set new goals, grow a little further towards that big picture in your mind. Or take a break, your choice.
But I’m guessing the sheer power of having improved your body and your worth in this world will be of such blinding magnitude that you will WANT to forge ahead, all colours flying!
I’m spending the remainder of the year fine-tuning those 2010 goals, making them specific and measurable enough, and on January 1st, we kick off! Of course I’m a little stressed to publicly commit to some serious goals, because that might also mean public failure … but you know what? That’s OK, too. All good things are worth risking that step out of your comfort zone.
What are you looking forward to for next year? I’m curious…
Photo 20 of 23: Kitty, my parents' cat
As I said in the previous post, this time of the year, I tend to get very introspective, needing to evaluate the year that has gone by and get everything in order for a fresh start.
Perhaps it is simply the malaise that grabs hold of me this very different year – I don’t know – but my first take on looking back was that I hadn’t achieved much at all this year. But God quickly sorted that out – how I love Him for grabbing my hand sometimes when I turn blind! It turns out there is much to be grateful for in looking back over this year.
- I am proud and grateful that this year I finally changed jobs, taking responsibility for the very real need to earn a higher income, to be a single breadwinner.
- I am proud and grateful that this year I achieved my savings goal – I know a nest egg in the bank is not what God’s provision is about, but it does make me feel good knowing that I could save a little every month and end at this point where I won’t fall into (immediate) crisis should a financial disaster strike. I feel a bit like the good servant, the one with the five talents.
- I am proud and grateful that this year I managed to pull myself out of the comfort-eating hysteria after I learned of my parents, that I can eat healthily again, and for the first time in my life have a consistent exercise commitment I’m keeping. I’m still working on making exercise a daily habit – I’ve definitely not arrived yet, but for both eating and exercising I have considerably raised my baseline. And that is good.
- I am proud and grateful that I managed to get through a month of migraine and am learning to find better mechanisms to deal with the headaches than painkillers – this is a pattern of many years (decades!) I am changing now.
- I am proud and grateful that I have learnt this year and am still learning to keep the rhythm flowing when things go wrong. Formerly I would have dropped all responsibilities, all demands, and turned inward, not caring that there is a salary to be earned, a house to be kept, etc. I am not perfect with this yet, but I’m getting there and learning more each day. This is a HUGE step forward for me, as I still struggle with depression on an almost daily basis.
- I am proud and grateful that I am learning to open up myself more to friendships – I never really have, and I am feeling the benefits of it now.
- I am proud and grateful that I am learning to not take it that seriously any more when it feels the world is ending – I am building inner muscles to deal with mishaps and disasters, and simply see them as part of life. With my parents falling ill this year, this has been a big learning curve for me.
- I am proud and grateful that this year I came closer to healing from the broken relationship which drove me to open this Porch in the first place. All the wounds are not quite closed yet, but I’m starting to see light, and that is a liberating place to be!
- I am proud and grateful that this year I’ve pushed myself to do things far outside my comfort zone, demanding greater courage of myself and less perfection – it feels very, very good.
- I am proud and grateful that through the Alphabet Play series of blog posts, followed by the Daily Photograph posts, I have started developing my creative muscles again. I am on my way to more creative expression, and that excites me a lot.
Yes, there is so much that marks this year as a true beacon in my life, one of the most intense years ever … and perhaps the greatest year of personal victory and growth so far.
In March this year I thought a LOT about the Israelites entering the Promised Land after 40 years of travel. After all, March marked my 40th birthday, and I couldn’t fail to see the parallel. I had been afraid to cross the Jordan, giving up the manna of God’s miraculous provision, crossing the border which would change me from the kid under the cloud of glory to the adult setting up house in a place she had to till herself.
At that time I could not even begin to guess how far the parallel would stretch. Yes, the manna stopped, but God’s presence remained as close as ever, if not closer. Yes, simply walking stopped, and the real battles of faith began, conquering strongholds, claiming a new country. It is not over yet.
But all the grace I see flowing down on me, and all the good footprints I left behind in this year, they all make me want to say:
“Yes, it has been a good year. I can’t wait to see what next year will bring.”
Photo 18 of 23: Macro detail of paper serviette
Photo 17 of 23: A very important aspect of any South African December
Christmas Day went well, though I have come to realize that I must be a total wuzz. How on earth my mom and grandmother used to prepare so much food in advance without completely going crazy, I’ll never know. The whole day consisted of food, food & food preparation for the late afternoon when my brother and his family arrived. As it turned out there was way too much food, and we could easily have halved the amounts and the variety.
It meant that I was so tired when we sat down to eat that I didn’t eat 100% mindfully. A big thing to be aware of next time.
BUT: I swam twice with my brother’s kids! Once in the afternoon when the heat would have baked a lizard’s brains dry, and once in the evening … because the kids had to be introduced to the special splendour of swimming at night. With faraway lightning playing on the horizon and two candles on the edge of the pool, it was pure magic!
Yes, Christmas Day was good, even though it was different from other years, my parents being not quite present. It strikes me that The Birth was also that: a time for Jesus of saying goodbye – for a while – to the absolute, heavenly intimacy He had with the Father, entering a new dimension in which He had to face weakness and challenge, and in which He had to pray like us, and ask like us, and receive like us. A time of goodbyes as much as it was a time of hellos. But within this eternal frame, only temporary.
From a Hot 100 Challenge point of view, I’m pleased to announce that I actually registered a LOSS after these two days of Christmas festivities. That is a gift all by itself, as far as I am concerned!
This time of year I get very introspective. There is already that sense of going deep within and looking back over the year before I can look forward to the new year. I crave silence and solitude. And at the same time I crave the reassurance that I am not alone.
It’s a strange place to be, but it is good.
A very merry Christmas to all of you out there, and all who still roam blogland at this time of the year.
Photo 15 of 23: Well, so it is out of focus, but that counts for atmosphere, right? Right?
We are spending a HOT summer’s day in the pool, followed by a cold dinner, and we will do things topsy-turvy this year, starting with the deserts – because that’s my dad’s favourite edible thing right now – and moving on to salads.
I’m still taking photos but right now they’re all feeling a little mediocre to me. Ah well.
How boring life would be if we did everything perfectly!
Here’s to an imperfect Christmas, I say! Much joy to you – may it be a blessed time for all.
love,
Pippa
Photo 16 of 23: Some of the decorations I put up at my folks'
Photo 14 of 23: Sunlight on Jeans
It is precious to spend time with my parents right now. Yet I find it remarkably tiring, being confronted on a daily basis with their approaching departure from this life.
Both are weak, though still functioning independently. That is good.
Both are starting to feel a little overwhelmed by the enormity of life and all the maintenance it requires. You would have, too, if you had strength only for so much.
My mom is losing words on a daily basis now. We can still talk, though there is much guessing and patience involved in conversations. I am grateful for what we are able to share. We still laugh!
She doesn’t remember how to cook anymore and I am taking over this responsibility now, so that she can eat. My dad hardly eats at all, though he is trying to conquer the side-effects of the chemo.
The child in me finds this turn of events strange: that my mom, who had been the nurturer, the most enthusiastic cook in the entire family, can’t cook anymore. She frets over Christmas Day, when traditionally we would meet as family to share a meal, exchange gifts and remember the reason for the season. For years she has planned this event with great care, making lists of everything that needs to be prepared, planning it in the minutest detail and with the greatest joy. Now she can’t write anymore, and it bothers her that Christmas is approaching without the security of having everything tied up in a list. I made a list for her last night, and she seems more content now.
This weekend we will put up the Christmas decorations, filling the house with some sparkle and light.
And next week I will buy all that is needed for Christmas Day and plan the rest. I’m a list-maker, too, after all!
The goals I set at the beginning of the month are still inside me, and I still work towards them as much as I can. But the context has changed. Being away from my little cottage makes me feel a little uprooted. Experiencing change as drastic as this, yes, that makes me feel uprooted, too. Though I can’t visit as many blogs as I wish right now, and my own posting is more sporadic, I’m still here, I’m still moving forward, one careful step in front of the other through this strange world.
The thing to remember is this:
There is always light. Sometimes you just have to become quite still to see it … to find its beauty and joy in the gathering dusk.
Photo 9 of 23: My brother's hand, photographing a little praying mantis who decided to jump onto the lens :)
Photo 10 of 23: Zee's hands
Photo 11 of 23: My parents' hands
Photo 12 of 23: My brother's family's hands - shining!
As a Christmas project this year, our family has decided that instead of giving gifts, we would each take photographs of all in the family and exchange these. Since none of them read this blog, I am pleased to give you a sneak preview of the photos I will be giving. Everybody focused on faces, but I decided to rather focus on hands.
There is so much character visible in people’s hands – sometimes more than in their faces, I think.
And yes, my parents still have hands the way I remember them, hands I want to remember. Hands which taught me so much, which held me when I was little, which danced in their own way to the daily rhythm of their lives … which, when I look at them, makes me feel I know them.
*
I would I could stand on a busy corner, hat in hand, and beg people to throw me all their wasted hours.
~ Bernard Berenson
