This morning raindrops plopped on my head, making me think of that old B.J. Thomas song. I couldn't remember all the lyrics, just the "cryin's not for me… nothin's worryin' me" part.
Perfect timing, because as of yesterday afternoon, my dad's back in the hospital with a suspected stroke.But even though I shed a few tears and battled those little worry demons, I didn't hop in my car and head to Houston this time, instead trusting my siblings who live there to take care of my parents.(Hallelujah!, Daddy's stable and not showing any signs of paralysis.)
Alas, all day the heavy gray sky sat on the hills surrounding me, obscuring them from my vision, and I thought, how appropriate for the cusp of a new year that seems foggy with changes I can sense but not visualize enough to predict their direction or the effects they will leave behind.
One I know without a doubt will be wonderful – my oldest will be getting married in the spring. I can't wait for that, for the tears and laughter and dancing of that night…for the light of love in their eyes and for officially embracing a new daughter.
And, call me crazy, but I'm still optimistic that, even in this economy, there's someone out there who wants to hire a 53-year-old female with an eclectic work record and no degree for a fascinating job with good pay and benefits…and even with a full-time job I'll be able to finish my children's book and get back to my great-grandfather's story by the end of the year…and continue building my photography business. And sleep.
But I know some of the changes waiting in the mist of this new year will be tough. Tough enough that I don't want to imagine them at all, even as I try to prepare myself for them.
That gray cloud has settled inside of me today, I'm afraid. Tom and I usually have a party to welcome the new year, but this year we procrastinated more than usual and just never got around to planning it. I could dress up and go to a friend's party, but with Daddy in the hospital, I think I'm just going to stay home. It feels like a night to whisper goodbye and hello.
For the past few days I've been trying to think of my word for the year, hoping the right one would find me. And, thanks to the mist and fog obscuring the hills, it did:
Faith.
Faith to keep moving forward, even when my path is obscured. Faith that I'll have the wisdom I need. Faith I'll find a way to be a light for others…that I'll be flexible in the pushes and pulls to come in this next year…that I will know when to fly and when to perch and rest for awhile.
Faith that there will be enough money, enough love, enough time. Enough respect and trust. Enough whatever…which shouldn't be hard, because we've always had at least just enough in the past.
Wishing all of you tons of blessings, love, light, and faith in 2013!
Long Hollow 
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