2018

There's a reason why I save the year's recap till the very last post. It takes time for me to lift my head above the moment and gaze back at the year from a more aerial perspective as opposed to a 'still stuck in the middle of the throes' perspective. If I'm still stuck on land (and to be honest, I am), it's hard to collect the good moments in a tough year. 2018 was hard - a new kind of hard I hadn't experienced before. There was a lot of caves and tunnels and dead ends and places that looked like dead ends and places that might not be dead ends, but I'm still not sure the way out of.

Those places are the hardest to gain perspective on - the 'stuck' places - and so when I reach the end of the year if I'm still in the-place-that-has-no-way-out to my limited eyesight, it can be disheartening, almost suffocating. People are talking about the whole 'new year, new you', the big goals, the exciting goals, the 'I should be happy for them' kind-of goals, and the ways in which they have succeeded. And I don't know. I begin looking too much at other people's journeys (comparison - usch), and I'm not there. I'm not somebody else or living somebody else's life. Meaghan, get your head back over here. Narrow your focus. 

We all have those glowing moments we slug through the mire of 365 days to find so we feel good, so we know we really did do something 'worthwhile' with our limited breaths. The importance of productivity and progress and big things is emphasized everywhere we look. Whether in our minds or in society around us, our worth is tied up in what we produce or the profit from our production. Somehow that belief has been worked into my core, and even though I KNOW it isn't true, it keeps tripping me up. No wonder, I read it takes 21 days to tackle a thought inside your mind and replace it with something else, something better, something that will survive. 63 days to make it have roots and branches enough to thrive. That's a long time and about a million reminders to yourself through all kinds of chaotic emotions and circumstances. That's a lot of courage and a lot of plain old stubbornness.

And I don't seem to have a lot of either of those right now. I'm tired, to be honest. There's a lot of lessons I started learning in 2018 that I'm not finished learning. There's a lot of major construction and destruction going on over here and so I know the feeling of stumbling over other people's highlight reels and forgetting for the millionth time that it is their highlight reel, their collection of half-told stories (and let's be honest - even if people do say what goals they didn't accomplish, we tell them to have grace on themselves, that they did their best, but we don't extend the same grace to ourselves).

This New Year's Day was filled with a lot less bittersweet melancholy than some. A lot less pressure of making it into something. A lot less "Oh man, it's January. Where did the time go? Have I even done anything with my time? Now it's the New Year, and I'm suppose to have goals and dreams, etc." Worries and anxiety that start to suffocate. Instead I got up as if it were any other day, forget about the month or the year, and tried to focus on the moments and collect them because the moments -- the here and now -- they're where I'm most at peace. If I extend myself too far into the future and tomorrow's worries, then I find myself running and running to try and keep myself from falling. That running is exhausting. So for right now, I'm just here, and hopefully this year, it's where I'll spend most of my time.

And with that, here are some of my favorite moments of 2018.

-Snapshots of 2018 -

February 24th - I don't do spur of the moment, but I did. He was moving, and that's a lot of driving alone. I picked the soundtrack, and we crossed the mountains, and there was fresh snow on all the trees. The world transfigured into a Narnian forest. Car rides aren't so bad. 

May 20th - Riding tandem bike for the first time along the Columbia river. Warm day. Cool breeze. He bought me Captain America socks -- my first fandom clothing. 

July 2nd - Perfectly shaped, beautiful, white and purple turnips. Also my nephew's favorite toys. 

July 4th - "Please not again, God." Anxiety knotting up my insides, but it releases as I carry serious boy - nephew- through my garden and tell him about all my vegetables. He follows my pointing. He seems to know. 

August 15th - I'm on top of the world in arctic terrain. Pieces of Rohan. Valleys and peaks shrouded in endless apocalyptic smoke, but the noise in my head is gone.

August 16th - I can reach out and touch the mountain. My mountain in all its intimate closeness. I touch snow in August. My muscles scream, but I am happy. Happy among wildflowers and perfect places where worries seem so small, mountains are kind, and God is infinitely beyond all imagining.

August 17th - We had to backtrack and everything took longer, but it was alright. The music was still good. Kayaking in warm, clear waters in the middle of absolutely nowhere. Hot chocolate down by the lake in moonlight. The food was good. 

August 18th - Narrow roads that can't really be roads swallowed in early morning fog. The first glimpses of the pacific - old friend, you know, it's always been too long. Sand. Walking along the ocean shore. Ocean forests swallowed in eery mist. And the painters out in the morning light with
their easels. The endless rush of pebbles falling over one another. Starfishes. We didn't reach the most North-Western point of the consecutive United States, but it didn't matter.  

September 7th - Carrots. Perfectly shaped, purple carrots. One handful, two handfuls. Something worked, and I've never seen anything quite so beautiful. 

October 6th - Birthdays are blue days, but it's a day up in the mountains where there's fresh snow, and it's cold, and it's Autumn and Winter and beautiful. We drink hot cider up on the top of the highest point and eat sandwiches, and it seems like the best food I've tasted for awhile. The wind numbs our hands, but there in the moment of sunlight, it seems worth it. And it's not so bad talking to my knees in the cramped back seat of a pickup truck. 

October 11th - Wandering through a Fall Japanese garden in Seattle. So peaceful. And the colors are rich and the reflections are serene and the fish frightening.

October 22nd - After work, I'm kidnapped to the foothills to see the sprinkling of Autumn colors. The tradition for a couple handfuls of years. We drive along in the shadows of the hills, and they stop in the middle of the road so I can get out and take pictures of the yellows in the sunlight, and I want to take all those yellows and decorate my soul with them, to fill myself up to the brim and push back all the blue. I want to become a tree, planted by some lake, in the middle of an evergreen forest (later she said she would like to become a tree across the road from me). We walk across the bed of the lake to our island, and everything slides back into perspective. I never want to leave this place. Hot chocolate on the car ride home. 

November 7th - She said she was rooting for 'optimistic Meaghan'. Rooting -- someone is rooting for me.

December 12th - I got there late after an emotionally exhausting day of 'this seems too painfully familiar', and she had to work in the morning, but she brought me dinner in a bag, and we listened to music and drove all around looking at Christmas lights. And we talked and some of the load slipped from my shoulders. 

December 24th - We were all cooking and baking together, and I knew what needed to be done but didn't have to do it alone. After the church's Christmas Eve service, we searched for somewhere to eat and found Popeye's was the only place open, and we took it and the stockings to the Air Traffic Control tower where my dad had to work late. We all sat on the floor and shared plates and opened stockings. We stayed up till 3 am because of a late night Celtic Christmas with bagpipes and gift wrapping I should maybe have done long before. 

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What are some of your favorite *small* moments of 2018?