27 December 2016
22 December 2016
december 2016
Our Christmas tree stands seven-feet-eleven-and-a-half inches tall.
It is fragrant and full, adorned with 15+ years of photos and ornaments,
wrapped in more strands of twinkling lights than I dare to count and punctuated
by a sparkly star that kisses our eight-foot ceiling. It radiates joy. But tonight,
on the third occasion this Christmas season, its glow has unexpectedly ceased; our
Christmas tree has blown a fuse—again. This December our tree has unified and frustrated us. It has
confounded us and consumed valuable time and energy. And yet this tree— with
the hope, anticipation and disappointment that accompany its on-again/off-again
light— might be my favorite Christmas tree so far. And so too, this year. I will
remember 2016 forever.
This year was also radiant and full, marked by memories,
milestones, conflict and costs. There were light days, long days and all manner
of days in between. Nevertheless, when I think back on 2016, I mostly remember the
light. A few of the moments that stand out include our first fire in our newly-installed
wood stove and our Anniversary/Spring Break road trip from the Methow Valley to
Denver, through Utah and back home again. Our kids skied for the first time, we
went back to Denver for a family reunion, and we spent good time with family
and friends in Olympia, LA, Houston, Mexico and here at home. I will forever
remember the squealing-laughter-tear-filled night my brother called to tell us
he proposed, and I’ll treasure any given Sunday when the Seahawks are playing (GO HAWKS!). This year each of us tried
something new (Langley Middle School, The Odigo Group, Rooted), we reconnected
with something or someone from the past, and as we continue to settle into the
present, we’re looking and feeling more like ourselves.
Maya (12) remains an old soul with an incredible work ethic. She manifests
things, has laser focus and pursues her desires relentlessly. She’s usually three steps ahead of everyone, and she thinks so far into the
future that she often grows impatient with right now. She has teeny-tiny
handwriting and a keen sense of style. She likes to watch TV (the tinier the
screen, the better) and to be social (especially when selfies are involved). Soccer,
Wyldlife, youth group and piano command her attention, but this year she was
captivated by volleyball.
Cole’s fire still burns; this boy (11) is all heart. He wears
shorts in the middle of winter and invariably, he ends up with his shirt and
shoes off. Cole, whom my sister and I refer to as Jake Ryan, is super-social
and he adores his friends. He rough and tumbles his way through life, loves action
movies and rap, and he dances around the house wearing big-ole headphones. His
writing moves me, and he too enjoys soccer, Wyldlife and youth group. His
weekly guitar lesson is slowly morphing into a drum lessonJ,
and he can’t wait to play football next fall.
Paul (42) sees the world through an entrepreneur’s eyes. “What are
you thinking?” I’ll ask in a moment I’ve caught him doe-eyed, dreamy and lost
in thought. Invariably, he’s thinking about real estate. Paul runs numbers in
his sleep and picks up on missed opportunities. This year he sold a few
properties, and he’s recently begun a new venture with a good friend. He meets
friends, colleagues and strangers for coffee almost daily, he asks thoughtful
questions and he listens. Still, he wakes
up before dawn for CrossFit, chairs our area Young Life committee, assists with
Cole’s soccer team, and we tag-team to drive our kids around the planet.
As for me (40), I continue to watch, to listen and to tell our
story. I remain selectively-social, read whenever possible, practice yoga and
teach Pilates. This year I took my first pass at consulting for Microsoft, and I
fell more deeply in love with God, my family and myself. I said ‘yes’ to (and
survived) a handful of things that scared me, and I celebrated my birthday—one
of the best weeks I have lived—at a yoga retreat in Sayulita. There I was swept
off my feet, and I found something I’ve needed more of for a while—acceptance.
Tonight, as I reflect on another year, another tree and our
ongoing dance of separate-but-togetherness, my kids are tucked in their beds, and my partner of 20 years rests
by my side. Even in the dark, a memory-filled Christmas tree stands tall. The wood
stove creaks and groans from the fire burning within, and I am warm.
Wishing you eternal light this Christmas,
Abi, Paul, Cole and Maya
21 October 2016
12 October 2016
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