New Year’s Eve is always a tough negotiation in our house. I love to be with our kids, surrounded by family and the friends we’ve known all their lives; Steve likes a contemplative evening, preferably at home. For years, we managed both. A walk across the driveway, and we were at our best friends’ annual New Year’s party, where a pot of Hoppin’ John and cornbread was served at nine and adults and children mingled happily together to ring in the New Year. My husband, who reminds me every December that he doesn’t like parties, could slip home to bed whenever he wanted to while the rest of us lingered on, dancing to old Beatles tunes and singing Auld Lang Syne as the ball dropped on TV.
One year, Henry and I closed down the party, dancing with our next door neighbor Wendell till 1:30 in the morning. Wendell was the dad every kid in the neighborhood adored; at his son’s Batman-themed birthday party, Wendell suddenly appeared on the roof of the house, in full costume, dramatically traversing the peak. He coached every team, played keyboards in a rock n’ roll band, could build anything and did, including a hot tub in the backyard, a rec room in the barn, a deck for sleeping out under the stars. It was Wendell who once dressed up as Santa Claus on Christmas Eve and then put in a dramatic appearance under the pine tree in our back yard, jingling bells as the snow fell silently around him and prompting an awestruck five-year-old Jack to exclaim, voice shaking with excitement, “We better get to bed!”
Wendell has been dead almost two years now. And although much remains the same in our old neighborhood, that magical universe in which back doors were never locked and my own two sons grew up surrounded by playmates, much else has changed in the six years since we left, transformed by the realities of divorce, children growing up and going off to college, people (us!) moving away and new ones moving in, and the inexorable passage of time. The death of my beloved friend Diane in October was yet one more devastating step away from what was into a new present that doesn’t yet feel familiar.
A part of me yearned, last week, to accept our dear old across-the-driveway neighbors’ invitation to come “home” for a quiet New Year’s Eve dinner, to be back in the fold with friends who share our history and who have been with us on every step of our parenting journey.
Yet, in a way, trying to go back there this year felt almost as difficult as trying to create something different here. The kids aren’t kids anymore. The losses are still fresh and raw. Steve wanted to stay home. And the trip is an hour and a half each way in the car, instead of a stroll from one back yard to the next. I struggled with all of this for a few days. And then it began to dawn on me that grasping wasn’t the answer, that it never is. Perhaps the lesson of this New Year’s Eve was actually about letting go of all that is familiar, and to allow, instead, a space for something small and tender and new to begin to take root.
And so we agreed to stay put, to make a simple dinner, light some candles, and let the rest just evolve. Jack ate a quick meal, packed an overnight bag, took the car, and headed to a party at a friend’s house. A couple of our friends from here arrived, grateful to have a place to go and a table to sit at. We put Stan Getz on the stereo, poured champagne, and savored an aromatic, saffron-laced fish soup. There was chocolate fondue in front of the fireplace for dessert, Henry at the piano, even a short story read out loud. As midnight approached, I wondered if anyone else was feeling the need to claim an intention for the new year.
There were six of us gathered in the living room, voices growing softer as the fire was dying down. We took our turns, made our predictable pledges for more reading in the months to come, more exercise, less procrastination, more travel. Our friend Nancy is dating a minister, a man who knows how to infuse a moment with meaning.
When it was Gil’s turn to speak, he took a deep, all-eyes-on-the-pulpit kind of breath. His eyes twinkled. He smiled, and said: “I was at a retreat a few weeks ago, and the leader said something that has stayed in my mind: God doesn’t lead us into the familiar.”
The words immediately resonated with me, too. I’ve been led this year into so many unfamiliar places: my friend’s death, a charged conversation with a loved one, a podium with a microphone in front of 200 women, a guest bedroom in a stranger’s house on the other side of the country, the first tentative steps into intense new friendships, the perilous emotional territories of funerals and weddings, worries over the choices of grown children and soul-shaking disagreements about how to parent sons who have become adults.
Not one of these were places that I sought, but every one, no matter how painful or fulfilling or exhilarating, was also an invitation to grow and learn — if only I could open my heart to the lesson being offered. What I’m thinking about today, on this first day of 2011, is that perhaps the best New Year’s resolution I could make is to begin at long last to welcome change rather than fear it. To accept new challenges as opportunities to become more fully myself, and to ease my white-knuckle grip on what feels safe and familiar.
The truth is, I’ve spent way too much time and energy in my life trying to stay in the comfort zone. (Why else, I wonder now, did I go through four years of college without ever setting foot in a science lab or a math class, without ever donning a pair of running shoes, or leading a committee, or auditioning for a play?) Looking back, I have to admit that so many of the choices I’ve made along the way have been the safe bets. I don’t go where I need to go so much as where I think I can succeed, where I won’t make a fool of myself, where I won’t be found out to be the awkward, non-athletic, slow-on-the-uptake person that — deep inside — I still believe myself to be.
So what would it be like, I wonder, at the ripe old age of fifty-two to finally embrace change as a necessary, even exhilarating, opportunity for growth? To head boldly forth into the places that scare me, rather than clinging to the safety of what I already know?
This morning, my alarm went off at 5:45. The night sky was dark, save for the slenderest crescent moon suspended over the mountains. I slipped out of bed, pulled on my wool socks and long underwear, grabbed Jack’s backpacking headlamp, and headed out the door. There were six of us who met in the parking lot at the foot of Temple Mountain before dawn, willing to get up after less than five hours of sleep, strap on snowshoes, and hike uphill for 45 minutes in return for watching the first sunrise of 2011 from a mountain top. The confluence of fading moon, rising red ball of sun, and morning mist was nothing less than magnificent. The most extraordinary light, the most perfect silence. The snow pristine beneath our feet, the glorious brightening sky above. Yes, that was worth getting out of bed for, worth the blister on my heel, worth the climb to the top. How patiently the world waits for us, I thought, standing there, catching my breath. Waits for us to wake up and pay attention to the beauty that is right before our eyes, if only we pause long enough to see. We are not led to the familiar. I think I’m finally ready to accept the truth of that, perhaps even to head out into some unknown territory of my own accord. This year, I will opt for courage over comfort, new trails rather than my old, well-traveled paths. I will climb some more mountains, see some more sunrises, go where I have never gone before.
What is your New Year’s resolution?
K-
Sounds like a lovely resolution. I don’t generally make resolutions. I expect this year to bring some big changes… in August, my baby will head off to First Grade (and the oldest will be a Junior!) and I will have no more kids at home and have to rearrange my whole life — it’s been fifteen years since I had no little kids and I’m a bit overwhelmed by where we’re heading.
Happy New Year! Much Joy!
Merrick
You *haven’t* always taken the safe path, Katrina! Becoming a parent in the first place is a huge leap of faith, and you’ve done it so naturally that you’re like a fish in water.
The hardest thing (witness all of those resolutions for more travel, more exercise, etc.) is that there is just not enough time for it all. As long we know that, and remember that everything is a tradeoff — rather than blaming ourselves for not getting it ALL done — there’s a better chance for real serenity.
Best to you in 2011, and glad you took that hike!
Thank you! This post was just what I needed today. Bringing in 2011 also brought a lot of doubt and questions for me. I’ve been especially mindful of what path I’m on right now and if it is God that is leading me. Have I been listening? Your blog was the 3rd reminder today that I need to trust in HIM! First a song as I was doing the dishes came on, then a sermon I listened to online, now your reminder that “God doesn’t lead us in the familiar”. It brought a tear to my eye. I choose to let go of my anxieties and pray for the courage to embrace whatever changes God has in store for me and my family!
A group of moms stood around the kitchen island on New Year’s eve thinking about our resolutions. We are all in a period of re-creation as the kids are all moving on and we are slowly learning to redefine ourselves. I hadn’t really figured out my resolution, but when it was my turn to share I blurted – I want to use my time better. Not sure where that thought came from, I guess it was my soul talking. But as I reflected on it, I realized that I I want to create more. I want to exhaust my days instead of having my days exhaust me.
Here’s to a creative 2011!
Reading this piece, I have an overwhelming sense of someone who is suspended between two lives, having let go of one but not having fully leaped into the next. To me, it sounds as if 2011 will be about learning to fully inhabit that new life, scary as that might be. It’s funny: I’ve always been someone who has embraced changed, sometimes compulsively. I really am the consummate change-a-holic, always looking for the next thing on the horizon; I have a hard time sitting still and simply being in my life. And yet, so much of what you express as someone who has shied away from change in the past really resonates with me. My resolution for the new year is to DO LESS, the subject of my own post this week. All the best for a wonderful 2011! I can’t wait to continue following your journey here.
PS: I adore the quote, “God doesn’t lead us into the familiar.” So simple and so true. My life has been one big maze into the unknown!
Bravo, Katrina! Who knows what wonders await you…
I love the God quote, too – thanks so much for that.
And I will be making time to dream this year – a first for me, at almost 50…
A beautiful post! I hope this year will be a new journey for you. To go where you have never gone before sounds like a wonderful resolution. Happy New Year to you and yours!
Thank you for this post, Katrina. I, too, feel as if I am between the “old familiar” and the uncertain. Perhaps it is that the last two years have been filled with more death, illness, and sadness than I ever thought I could handle, and it seems that there is no end to it. God does not lead us into the familiar, but I need to remember that he DOES lead us. My hope for 2011 is that I can rekindle my spirituality and remember that I do not walk this road I am on alone.
Best wishes for a wonderful 2011!
You continue to inspire…thank you!
I love your words, love your wisdom, thank you for sharing. I enjoy your words so much. I too need to step out of what is comfortable more often. This year as much as even thinking about it makes me nervous….a marathon will be run. If thats all 2011 brings for me, I’ll be ok with that. But with all great things, God has some involvement, we’ll be getting closer this year too.
To your continued work and words….happy new year!
I never visited your old site, this one is wonderful. I will check back often. Margaret sent me here.
Perhaps the world waits for us, or perhaps we are, and always have been, in a unified relationship with each other and all the world—and it is our waxing sliver of consciousness that individuates only to make its way back to the mountain, the mist, the sun and the chalice moon pouring out blessings… not so much upon us as throughout us.
Nevertheless, I all too readily relate to your call for courage; all too well know the roads not taken due to fear.
My hope is that, together, we can understand and heal our fears, cultivate courage and embrace the unfamiliar, perhaps to realize that, like T.S. Eliot suggests, we shall arrive again at the familiar place only to realize that it is also unfamiliar.
All Good Wishes for a great Year & Namaste
Of all the blogs I visit, yours is the one I only visit when I have time to sit, read and reflect. I get so much from your words of wisdom and appreciate how honest you always are.
I must say that I too tend to go with the familiar and while I am not sure I am ready to take on more than I already am – the idea of seeing a sunrise is appealing. Maybe it is just the thing I need to wake me up again.
May 2011 take you to some new and exciting places.
Warmest,
Helen
Helen,
I learned today that most people spend less than two minutes on a website! So, needless to say, I am honored and touched by your words. Thank you for visiting, for spending more than two minutes, and for writing. Here’s to more sunrises for both of us in 2011.
My resolutions, besides the obvious (‘make healthier choices EVERY day’…)are simple. Set a time each week to write things that don’t have official deadlines. Work on projects ‘in the file’, finish a few, maybe market a few.
And another resolution…to finally meet up with a special friend who lives on the other side of the mountain from my brother and sister in law. This year, my friend. This year. 🙂
Yes indeed, this year. In fact, I’m writing it down right now in my list of intentions for 2011.
Katrina
Once again a beautiful and inspiring post. I’m not very good with change either – I’ve been sleeping on the same pillow for 25 years and as much as I know it needs to go, it gives me comfort. My motivation to break out of my comfort zone is often my children. I want to role model for them, especially my daughters, how to embrace all of life’s wonderful opportunities even when it scares you. Give Zumba a try this year. Who knew how excited I would be to get a new belly dancing skirt for Christmas this year? Look forward to sharing one of those new adventures with you this year.
I’m in the pillow club, too. And I couldn’t agree more about moving and changing as a way to inspire our kids — what better motivation could there be? Send me a photo of that skirt!
I can’t believe I missed this until now. God doesn’t lead us to the familiar. Oh, wow … tears (again) and that familiar ache that tells of the gong of truth. There is much unfamiliar for me right now, and most of me doesn’t like it ONE LITTLE BIT. But reading your words I recommit to learning to accept, and to wonder, and to wander.
xo
We’ll help each other!
A lot of change is about to happen in my life, and the thought that God doesn’t lead us into the familiar puts me at ease in knowing that the newness my family faces will be OK. I’m going to open my arms to it and embrace it.
Thank you for your great posts.
Katrina, your words always give shape to feelings I find popping up as I rush through life. As I get even more comfortable and staid in my home life (since the kids are at college), I need to hear your words “to get out of my comfort zone” more often. Life is busy and challenging, so too often we simply lay low when things slow down. Of course a hike, a trip to a friend’s house, hearing a concert, are often what we need instead to revive our flagging spirits. Thank you for your inspiring words…I can’t wait to read more.
That’s good. That’s very , very good!
Such inspiration. Please, count me in….