pinecones
2024. Another new year upon us. Que everyone with the well-crafted “Woohoo! 2023 was amazing!“ and/or “New Year, New Me” post, goals, fridge clean out, to-do list, etc.
Admittedly, I did not jump on that end-of-year party train, but more or less stood, metaphorically, in a corner, pretending to toot one of those annoying party store paper horns (you know the ones), quietly whispering to myself – 2023, you kicked my ass.
Sure, there were moments and achievements I can fondly reflect on: 93 live bands, 40 books read, a trip to Germany in November to visit Dylan, just to name a few. It’s not lost on me to express gratitude for the good continually blessed upon me. Still…’twas a rough one.
I recently shared a quote that more than adequately expressed how I personally felt exiting 2023 with a few friends, who I expect might have felt similarly. “The version of you that carried you through this year, somehow, thank her with gratitude before you tell her what she can do better in 2024”. With that, I made a decision - no mad dash forward into the new year with defined expectations or goals for myself.
Instead, just one foot in front of the other. I can set my own pace, fast or slow, or even offer to pace myself with Dylan, as I am thinking in this challenging phase of his life, he just might need a walking buddy. And candidly, I probably do too.
I still have tinges of disbelief at the fact that he has been gone for over a year, and I’m honestly not sure when, or if, the sting of his physical absence will ever subside from my heart. Having been in Germany for nearly 6 months, and still adjusting, I’d be lying if I said it has been a cake walk for either of us. Children transitioning into adulthood is not for the weak. I was reminded recently of those classes that we thought we needed before our babies were even born – you know, the ones where we learned how to swaddle them and put on a diaper correctly. Seriously? If you’re reading this and are a soon-to-be parent, save yourself the dough and the time. I will gladly show you how to put on that diaper, free of charge, and then hand you a handy voucher for a free session to cash in with me 18 years later.
I’m eagerly raising my hand and asking where the heck is the class for this phase? I’ll even happily pay the late enrollment fee! It’s not just the “I miss him” component – this transition brings to life all the big stuff, the scary stuff, (and even more so being military). And when you couple these scary moments with some of the most amazing, tenderly sweet, emotionally raw, and prideful moments you might ever share with your child, it’s a wonder my head hasn’t spun completely off my neck.
It's been harder for him, I recognize this. And it’s hard for me to try and convince him that he is truly built for hard things, no matter what doubt might cycle through his head. He’s young and less experienced at life and how to give in to its inevitable flow of ups and downs; and being an overthinker, like his mama, he may not pave the cleanest path for himself. It’s likely to be marked with the occasional flashing yield and wrong-way signs, speaking from experience.
And experiencing major death in our family, twice this year, well, it’s just further rattled him. Thoughts on life’s fragility, his own time on this earth, and the importance of family are now a new character in his play of thoughts and plans for his future.
Dylan was actually home for the holidays this year, and it was wonderful to spend time with him. I’m beyond grateful that he makes time for us, family, and friends when he visits. I know there will come a day when I will likely not be a priority. Having him here, then having to turn him loose again just never gets easier. He and I clearly have a certain sadness laid upon us days before he must leave again, and we are working together to learn how to navigate this.
Now, about the pinecones.
As my bah humbug kicked in on December 26, I disassembled the Christmas decorations and put away our family of pinecones like I have for the past several years.
A little fun fact – over the years that we have traveled since Dylan was a toddler, there has been a pattern of somehow collecting pinecones from various places we’ve visited. Zero reasoning behind it – it started out as simple trips to the California mountains where we would take walks through the woods, and when we found a pinecone that was extra in some way, we would gently pack it up and bring it home. Over the years we have somehow created a family of pinecones. Then the pinecone family started to further expand - pinecones from Texas when visiting family, pinecones from Montana, and South Dakota. Even grandma was bringing home pinecones from her separate trips or trips she and Dylan took together.
Over the years, I somehow managed to collect and keep most of them, and several years ago when the empty nester syndrome started to kick in, I “downsized” our Christmas decorations and made the choice to keep them. I decided it would be a good idea to showcase the pinecones on our Christmas tree and fireplace mantel every year.
Well, one of those Christmas elves must have thought it would be funny to lace the pinecones with butter this year. They kept falling off the tree; even fell from the mantel with no explanation. Some of them broke or suffered a few broken stems here and there. It seemed like every few days I would find one on the floor, and I’d have to tuck it back into the tree. I came really close to asking them to move out and find a new home in a neighbor’s tree. But I resided to the fact that 2023 had already dished it out to me, so this was just par for the course. Grin and bear it, girl.
But fast forward to now, as I sat down to write and ponder the new year, I was somehow reminded about those pinecones. Coupled with the simplicity of just walking a path forward, Dylan and I can continue to push forward - together when we need each other, separate when we’re feeling strong or when our individual paths require it. Just one foot in front of the other.
And along the way, we can stop and collect new pinecones we may need in life’s new moments and inevitable challenges. We can graciously collect for ourselves or for each other.
Pinecones in general will hold a special memory for both of us, I am hopeful the new pinecones we collect along the way will bring new meaning. A representation of something new, whether challenging or exciting, perhaps a call to action on life’s necessary decisions. That push we need to break through, no matter how difficult. A green-light to move forward, or a maybe even a red-light to stop and reassess. Even if nothing more than a gentle reminder of the pinecones we already have and must continue to care for and nurture – family, our faith, our physical & mental health.
Or maybe even….
Choosing a new healthy habit or quitting one that no longer serves our purpose.
A direction on a hard decision we’ve been uncertain about.
Courage to have a difficult conversation.
To take a risk, even if it may not work out like we want it to.
A choice to finally be firm in our truth & beliefs.
Choosing to be an example of kindness and compassion.
A choice to finally quit caring what other people think.
A choice to stop placing judgement on others.
A choice to practice true self-care.
Forging new friendships, seeking better mentors & more positive influences.
A new tattoo.
A new hobby, or to re-engage in one we no longer make time for.
A trip you’ve been putting off until next year.
A choice to pray more often or go to church.
A choice to truly trust God’s plan for us.
Christmas 2024 might just show me that perhaps I shouldn’t have downsized the Christmas tree - I may need to make space for an expanding pinecone family!
Cheers to a happy and healthy 2024. One foot in front of the other.