New Years and Inoculations

Before I start, let me warn you that at first, this post might seem negative. It's not meant to be, and in the end, I don't think it is. So please, bear with me as I set the stage so we can actually get to the insights I've had. :)

Today is December 31, 2013. New Year's Eve. 2013 ends tonight, and I couldn't me more ready.

2013 has been a rough year. Without listing the things that have gone on, let's just say it's been rough physically, financially, and emotionally, and I'm ready for it to be done.

To cap it off, I'm just getting over one of the worst bouts of flu I've ever had. To be honest, the past week and a half (even before I got sick!) is kind of a blur in my head. It's like remembering a powerful dream I may have had a year ago - I've got the basic gist of it in my head, but the details are all fogged up and blurred together, like they didn't really happen.

The fact that I'm getting over being sick, combined with the fact that my family will be going on a cruise together in a few weeks, brought the last cruise my family went on to mind. While it was an amazing experience, I got sick on the second day, which kind of muted the fun I had.

I took a look at this sickness and I thought that perhaps this is a gift. Generally, with the flu, once you've gotten over a particular strain, you're covered against it. (Hence why the flu vaccine works.) So perhaps, by getting the flu now, while I'm in Alabama and have my parents to look after me, but I still don't have anywhere else to go, I'm basically "getting it out of the way." That way, come cruise time, I can enjoy it at full capacity.

Right now, I'm going into 2014 hoping that that's basically what 2013 was, too. I went through a lot of miserable stuff this year. Hopefully, that means I'm "inoculated" for a bit, and 2014's going to be a great year. I've actually got a pretty good feeling about it. Here's hopin'!

As dreamers do...

"What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That's like saying, 'He can't climb that mountain, he's just a man,' or 'That's not a diamond, it's just a rock.' Just."
~J.M. Barrie, Finding Neverland

I saw a shooting star tonight.

I was laying down on the top step outside, just staring at the night sky, and thinking about some things that have really been weighing on my mind recently. Don't worry about what it was, that's not important to this topic.

As I was staring at the sky, pondering and shaking my head in silent frustration, with half of my view completely obscured by the house, a cosmic beacon of light briefly burst to lief, conspicuously burned across the sky for what my head knows must have been less than a second but my mind perceived as much, much longer, and vanished. Just a brief moment, an inconsequential flash, and it was gone. I know what a shooting star is - it's just a hunk of rock, a piece of debris that fell off the tail of a comet, made a wrong turn at Neptune, and burned up in the earth's atmosphere.

Just.

Whatever it "actually" was, I feel like that shooting star was for me. Because even if it is a "simple" phenomenon explained by science, it's so much more than that. It's a symbol of hope, of improvement, of a knowledge that somehow, sometime in the future, things are going to work out. Just don't stop believing, and don't stop wishing.

Of course I made a wish, and no, I won't tell you what it is. Maybe at a future date, after it's come true.

Maybe not.

But whether I tell you or not, that star let me know something. Yes, I've got things on my mind. I have no idea how or when it's going to happen. But somehow, sometime in the future... things will work out.

One lick at a time

My brother told me an interesting story yesterday. Apparently, when I was two years old, most of my older brothers and sisters entered a mile run at the local middle school. Because I was not the type of child to be left out of anything, I insisted (as only a headstrong two-year-old can) on entering as well. Apparently I was the youngest participant, which isn't really that much of a surprise.

I'm told I held pretty strong for the first half-mile; however, at this point, my youthful determination began to flag. This mile run wasn't everything it was cracked up to be! However, then Johnny (always thinking) had an idea. He ran about 50 yards ahead of me (not too difficult, considering he was 15 years older than me and 6'3, and I was two years old with stubby little hobbit legs), and he held out a Jolly Rancher. Oh, how my eyes lit up! With determination in my eyes, my little arms started pumping, and I fell forward into the ever-popular toddler run, head leaned forward, legs pumping wildly to catch up. When I reached him, he held onto the Jolly Rancher and gave me a good, long lick. Sweet bliss!

However, then came the betrayal. After that one tantalizing taste, he stood up and ran another 50 yards ahead. How dare he! However, I screwed up my little face, leaned forward again and took off. Again, I reached him, and again I was rewarded with that one lick; but then, moments later, he took off again, and I was forced to follow in 25- and 50-yard bursts. All of a sudden, the distance didn't matter. It was only another short distance until I got another taste, and since I trusted my brother, I knew that I would get that taste every time. And then, all of a sudden, the next time I reached my brother and the prized Jolly Rancher, the crowd burst into cheers. Step by step, lick by lick, I had completed the mile. And, of course, I was given the entire Jolly Rancher, a laurel wreath of which Apollo himself would be jealous!

Honestly, does it get any better than that?

Of course, I came in dead last. (Come on, I was two years old!) However, my brother said that the cheers when I crossed that finish line were deafening. Now naturally, I don't remember any of this production, but I know all the players involved, and I know the script. It's not that difficult to recreate the scene in my head.

I think there have been other occasions scattered across my life where the same sort of thing has happened. I'll be running along at a good clip for a while, and then I'll get winded. It's very tempting to stop, but then off in the distance I see a glimmer of my goal, so I lean my head forward and pump my little legs until I get to where that glimmer was. And perhaps I'll get a taste of something wonderful -- just a taste, mind you -- and perhaps I won't, but I'll see another glimmer of it a ways off, and so I'll lean forward and run some more. At times, I'll get frustrated, but I'll receive comfort from a loving Heavenly Father, and he'll point off in the distance, and I'll see that prize again, and off I'll run, because even though I'm only getting the occasional taste, it's something I know I want, and it's something that I know is simply wonderful. And then finally, one lick at a time, without even realizing it, I'll cross the finish line.