A Few of my Favorite Things

     I created a very special wreath a few years ago.  It seems like a few years ago, but it was more--I know this, because as I look at the wreath today, I see photos of babies that are now big.  I love this wreath.  It's covered in ribbons and glitter, and all of the special ornaments that Jono, Abby and Sam made throughout preschool and elementary.  At one point, that brief moment in time when they were actually toddlers and babies, my tree could hardly hold all of the magical decorations, and I wasn't willing to part with any.  Not one.  So this wreath became the overflow vessel for the stars and pinecones, the glittery school photos, the bells, reindeer and gingerbread men.  I have three-of-the-same of most, and after a few years, the wreath was as full as my tree had been.  It was magnificent, and it hung in the house, displaying my favorites.

     And then we moved.  I protected the wreath and it traveled well.  But it didn't' find its way out of our new attic that first Christmas.  Or the second, third or fourth.  December would roll around and one kiddo or another was coming home from college or waiting on college acceptances, or auditioning, or  needing a ride to Boston Mills.  The tree was always full of memories and special ornaments, but the idea of the ornaments with the tiny faces and the sparkly pinecones wasn't at the top of my list.

     Until this year.

     The tree is up, and it's half decorated.  Jono is working downtown, and Abby will be home on Thursday.  Sam just texted from school wondering about skiing this afternoon.  Everybody wants to decorate the tree (I just know it in my Christmas heart) but I do not live with toddlers in their Christmas jammies anymore.  My children are busy young adults who are studying for finals and attending office Christmas parties.

      So, as I was hanging the last of the ornaments today, I realized that something was missing.  The toddlers.  One quick trip up to the attic, and there it was, bagged carefully, hanging on a hook.  Just as easily as it was assembled, it was disassembled.  Every last one of the popsicle-stick stars and the paperboard angles will find its way back onto the tree.   Suddenly, there is so much room.

     Merry Christmas, friends!  Make sure to surround yourself with your very favorite things.

     Love,

     Christy

The Best of Intentions

Intentions.

The good, the bad, the best of.

My daughter, Abby, wears a bracelet everyday that says "breathe."  I was with her when she chose it, when she connected with it in the boutique.   When I look at her, I am not at all surprised that she feels this word so deeply.  Her theater training, her vocal technique, her yoga classes.  Then there is the stress that can arise with a packed schedule.  The word was so perfect.  Breathe, girl.

The word bracelet, the "MyIntent" bracelet is a big "thing" right now and I want one, but I've been struggling to pick my word.  The lists are endless, and I can't seem to connect.  Some have double meanings, some just sound wrong, some are slightly negative, some seem cliche, some aren't fitting enough to wear everyday.  Being that I kind of fancy myself a word-kind-of-girl, this word block is challenging to me.

Challenge.

That's another thing.

My cousin, Julianne, has challenged me to accept a 50-Weeks-to-50 challenge.  I must pick a new goal every week until I turn fifty next July.  Fifty goals, fifty weeks.  She's a few weeks into her challenge and mine starts this week.  So, I have to pick my first challenge.

I can't even pick a word.

So, this morning on my walk, I decided to combine these two tasks.

Week One of my 50-Weeks-to-50 (#50Weeksto50 on Instagram) will be to  pick my word of intention.  And as I thought about it, really thought about it, and thought about some things that will be on my list of goals to accomplish this year,  I wondered, what keeps us (me) from trying things, finishing things, putting things out into the world.  For me, it's often fear.  Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of not finishing, fear of the unknown, fears I didn't even know were holding me back.

"You cannot be brave without fear."  ~Muhammad Ali

It feels a bit weird that one of my favorite quotes happen to be by Ali, but it is.  And that's what popped into my head on my walk.  And then there's another one of my favorite quotes, but it's actually the end of a poem.

There is freedom waiting for you,

On the breezes of the sky,

And you ask "What if I fall?"

Oh but my darling,

What if you fly?” 

~Erin Hanson

So I chose my word.  BRAVE. I have some goals to complete, and some things to try, and there is freedom waiting on the breezes of the sky.  I see a paddleboard in my future, a journal, and a finished manuscript.  I will write poetry. I will try yoga. I will bake and decorate cupcakes from scratch.  I will submit that manuscript.  Again. 

What is your intention?  What is your word?  Follow me on instagram at @christychafe and #50WeeksTo50 share your goals and intentions and dreams and challenges and favorite words.  I'd really love to hear.  

Be brave.  What if you fly? 

Enjoying the Ride

Happy New Year.   And, phew.

Feels like a whirlwind, doesn't it?  Not just the holidays (which seemingly flew by me in a glorious frenzy of tissue paper, confectioners sugar and glitter, as noted by the evidence I am still finding) but the entire year.   I look back on 2016 as if it were a giant revolving door instead of a calendar year;  transformations, changes, comings and goings.   I'm not even talking about the election--transitions to be sure--but so many changes and upheavals along my own journey. 

I've realized that for a girl who enjoys travel and activities and surprises, I also apparently like my schedule and patterns, so this year of "different" was not always so easily-received by me.  Abby left for college, Sam started high school, and Jono began his senior year.   Adam made a big decision to begin a new phase in his career; after twenty years in the same company, he will be transitioning into something new.  

Big changes.  Which bring about small changes.  Morning routines, daytime routines.  Who's in the office, and who's watching the Today Show-- or ESPN?  Abby is no longer singing show tunes (or Beyonce) all day long in the kitchen, but Sam has taken up skiing full-force, so I am learning a delightful new language.  (Some days the "pow" is great on the slopes, and sometimes things are "sendy." Sick.  Hella lit.)   I often trip over ski boots.  

Just when I was growing accustomed to Jono being away, he is now about to become a true grown-up.  He has thrown himself into the interview process and while  his determination and skill both astound and delight me, I already find myself mourning the fact that I will not have him home again for a four-week Christmas break.  Sad!

This will be Jono's last season of baseball.  And ours, with him.  Real change.  I am a girl who packs a mean baseball cooler, a trie baseball mom.  But I am also not unaware of the changes in the boy who is becoming a man;  one ready to move forward with the love of the game with lessons learned from the game.  A new phase, a new time.    

Abby will take the stage at Miami University in the spring.  I'm trying  not to rent an apartment in Oxford to take care of her this spring.  I want to be close enough to buy grapefruit juice and lozenges, to make sure she sleeps and eats.  To be at every single show.  This is already difficult for me.  

But this is not about me.  These revolving doors keep revolving, and sometimes, I find them spinning me right back to where I belong.   I try to ride along, and I spin and I spin, but I never get very far, chasing the change.  So I will step quietly (ahem) back, and watch the comings and goings, the new and the different.  And I will be grateful for the ride.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  Jeremiah 29:11

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens. 

Ecclesiastes 3:1