Posted by Anne

Another December come and gone.  (Almost.)  This is always an interesting time of the year for me…when I pack away the remnants of another holiday season, and begin looking ahead.  I heard someone say on TV the other day that the New Year is all about “starting fresh”, and wiping away the follies and mistakes of the year that’s becoming past tense.  Truth be told, this philosophical nugget came from a perky FoodTV host, and probably had more to do with calorie consumption than existential goal-setting.  But regardless of the source, the sentence resonated with me.  And that’s because I just love a “fresh start”. 

I’ve always been this way.  “Fresh starts” are the reason I love buying a new day-planner each January, and why I literally adore the idea of “spring cleaning”.  Starting fresh is perfect for a change-phobe like myself—it’s a transition that doesn’t constitute drastic change per se—just a new attitude, a new lease on life, and a more organized garage.  And so, each January, I’m usually ready for life to resume its normal rhythm.  I’m ready for routines, to-do-lists that don’t require trips to the post office, and grocery lists that don’t involve cranberries or canned pumpkin.  I’m ready for…normal.  But I’m ready for a new normal.  A “fresh” normal. 

For some reason, this year has been different.  This weekend, my yearly ritual of packing up the holiday decor—which I usually find cleansing—felt somehow hollow.  This year, it was not so cleansing…and not so fresh.  It felt premature and hurried.  And I have no idea why.  I have no idea, because for the first time since I was a freshman in college, I spent the holiday season in one place.  No travel.  No hectic family visits.  Very little “rushing around”.  December progressed right here, in my home.  And December felt longer than it ever has before.  But still…

The literal end of our Christmas...right before bed.

Packing away our tree, the nativity, and the lights—it all felt a little gloomy this year.  When my husband and I dumped our tree at the local tree recycling center, I felt a pang of…something.  When I placed the holy family in their styrofoam packing material, I felt…something.   It’s odd, isn’t it?  When you’re happy—genuinely happy—but something inside you wants for something else.  Even odder when you can’t define it. 

I’m still unsure why the end of the holidays affected me.  All I know is that I wanted to bask in the ending of the season.  I wasn’t ready for the disappearance of pine needles, or to load up the box labeled “Christmas” that sits patiently in storage for 11 months of the year.  I wasn’t ready for the “fresh start” I usually anticipate.           

As a planning addict, this was a new emotion for me.  I’m unaccustomed to this desire to prolong, rather than move ahead.  But finally, I found comfort.  And I found it Sunday morning.  Ryan had to work (the reason for us staying put this year), so as he trudged off to the hospital, I trudged off to Church.  When I arrived, I was relieved to see the Christmas decorations still in their place.  Red and pink poinsettias still graced the front of the sanctuary.  Hanging stars adorned with hand-written prayers hung above my head and danced in the quiet breeze.  The sanctuary—usually full—was thinner, and mostly filled with older couples.  I sat alone, and felt relieved.  I sang the hymns and carols.  And for one more hour, I thought about the season.  It was quiet, personal, and necessary.  For that hour, I stopped moving forward and gave myself what I needed—a goodbye to the season. 

And now I’m ready.  I’m ready to welcome 2010.  I’m ready for my fresh start.  So bring on the New Year!