Living in the Moment

The first Christmas in my new-borne life. It is such a wonder to me that, at 43, I am completely starting over. New state, new friends, a new job doing something I've never done (starting in January), and a whole year coming up of "firsts." I've never not had a plan, or been striving for a particular goal. I've always been such a planner (Type A, they say) but this has forced me to live in the moment, and I'm doing okay with it. Every now and then I feel the weight of my world on my shoulders, then I remind myself, there are no accidents - I truly believe God has a plan for me, and I settle down.

When I write about my new, unplanned life, it sounds liberating, doesn't it? I know people who covet a clean slate and walk away from their lives to get it. I have waves of different emotions, but today I feel excited about my unknown future. I look at the last decade as a pie (must be the holidays talking). Ken and I are 80% of the pie, the remaining pie, still uncut, holds my next slice. What will January look like? I can't even imagine April or July...

I am nervous about the job -- it means putting down shallow roots, but it is with a company that is all over the world, so that leaves my choices wide open. And I am surprised how much I enjoy living here -- I am only about two hours from anywhere I may want to go by plane, I am surrounded by the kindest, most loving neighbors (now friends) anyone could imagine, and the scenery is gorgeous. As you know, I have about 15 wild turkeys as pets, along with the rest of the zoo that resides in the woods behind my house.

I am more and more content each day, and when that little voice whispers that it's a slight betrayal to mourning, I quickly dismiss those feelings of guilt. It is because of Ken's gentle nature and him selflessly wanting only my happiness, that I know it's alright. 

I still feel Ken around me, I hear him encouraging me to move forward, to hold onto our memories tightly, but start to make new ones. Maybe I've started a new Christmas tradition for myself, maybe it'll be new each year -- who knows? What I do know is that I am enormously blessed that I have my mom and dad with me, and I am enveloped in the love of my friends and family, far and near, and I FEEL it in my soul.

As I sit in the warm Missouri sun (at my dining room table not a beach chair), with Barney snoring on his kitchen bed, I am reminded again, how truly fortunate I am, and there is peace in this moment.

"You can never cross the ocean until you have the courage to lose sight of the shore."
Christopher Columbus

Blessings on your day...

Twilight

As Ken and I left our Florida home one year ago, I never could've imagined my life as it is right now. I'm still amazed that I'm living in Lake Saint Louis, surrounded by nature, loving neighbors and new friends, without Ken by my side. So much change in such a short time.

We arrived at the apartment in St. Charles (with excitement and trepidation) about this time (5:00) Sunday, December 16th, and were in a race to beat the encroaching dark to unload the Suburban. I walked into the apartment and couldn't believe my eyes -- Ken had gotten us a little Christmas tree, decorated it, added a Santa snow globe to the mantle, and put a few little presents under the tree -- including the pair of slippers I'm wearing right now. They are white ballerina-style with baby blue stripes and little snowmen on the top. On the bottom of one it says "Let It" and the other one says "Snow!"

I had been lamenting because I couldn't decorate the Florida house since we were leaving, and I was feeling blue -- like I was missing Christmas all together. He made sure we had our first Christmas in our new place for the start of our new life together. One more thoughtful act added to the long list of his countless love gestures.

Tonight, I look around my living room; the mantle is decorated with pine boughs and soft white pine cone lights, the Christmas tree is sparkling, Barney is asleep by my side and night is falling. Through the atrium windows I see the snow literally glowing periwinkle blue, the outline of the naked forest is silver, and there is just a hint of peach at the tree-line from the sun saying goodnight. I feel immeasurably blessed.

This time of day and dawn are my favorite -- the sky is a color you can't find in a Crayola box -- it's a cross between cobalt blue, amethyst and platinum. It stays light just a tad longer, as daylight refuses to leave and bounces off the snow. Serenity wraps me in its warmth and I feel Ken's love around me.

All is calm...all is bright...sleep in heavenly peace.

Annie the Acura -- for Kym and Tyler

Annie the Acura – why we never named you until now I’ll never know…

You, old friend, safely carried us from coast-to-coast and have priceless stories to tell.

In the heat of summer, you took Ken from Knoxville to Vegas, playing mixed cd’s and blaring max cool, loaded with a suitcase, a sleeping bag and a photo of his Florida mermaid.

Every Sunday you were parked alongside the Porches, Ferraris and Bentleys, up by the door at Bally’s Casino – you thought you were a super star; we thought so too!

Your warm seats kept our buns from freezing in the desert winters and enveloped us as we hit the late-night McDonald’s drive-through for $1 french fries and ice-cream sundaes.

Annie, you hold so many memories of our life together – countless Christmas trees drooping out of the trunk, piles of Florida beach sand on the mats, doggie drool from Walter-Fuller Park every Sunday morning, and the scent of fast food lunches still linger in your carpet.

You were a work-horse -- we know your max load is 16 bags of granite rocks from Home Depot and you can carry 10-ft. rugs from the front-seat, over the console and back to the trunk.

You’ve been Barney-slobber and Coke christened, and the sun still pours warmly through your sunroof. As an old girl, you still have some get-up-n-go and refuse to be a member at the car parts graveyard.

So many roads you’ve roamed, so many valuables you’ve carried, so much good music and the stories you could tell. I will miss you, ole girl, but I have to let you go.

Seeing you in the garage is too painful to bear as it feels like my husband just got home from work and might emerge with a smile and a hug at any moment.

I know you’ll be in good hands with his best friend’s family and will provide new memories, traveling their roads through the next few years or however long you can hold out. Be good to them – no stalling on the highway or shimmying upon braking, and keep their buns warm this winter as they drive through the snowy streets of life.

 

Kristin Sadler, August 2013

Let the Bells Ring

Wow! December 4th already. I can't believe it's been a month since I've written. So much has happened in that time. The third week of November was an understated week of lows and more lows. Ken had purchased VIP tickets for us to see Justin Timberlake as an anniversary event. We would've gone to the concert on the 19th, and celebrated four short years of marriage on the 21st. That's one reason I couldn't write -- it would've been very depressing to read.

My wonderful, loving, longest-known friend, Molly, came to keep me company for our anniversary weekend. I picked her up at the airport Thursday afternoon and she saved me from a long, teary few days. We haven't spent that much uninterrupted quality time together in....well, maybe ever. I learned new things about her, we laughed 'til we cried, we had an HGTV marathon (such a chick thing to do)and we shared gut wrenching memories of the horror of finding our loved ones deceased. It was deeply therapeutic and our bond grew even stronger . What an enormous gift to have a friend like her -- I am truly blessed.

Then came Thanksgiving. Ugh. I packed up Barney and drove six hours to Ken's parent's in Tennessee. The drive was sunny and pleasant, the river of memories flowed. The last time we were there was last Christmas. We stopped on December 15th on our way to St. Charles, Missouri, to spend the night and leave Barn with grandpa and grandma until we went back for Christmas. We rented a Suburban to "move" me and Barney into the apartment with Ken so we could start our new life together and not waste anymore time apart. I am so grateful we embarked on that journey. Had we waited until the Florida house sold (the original plan) I would've only had two weeks with Ken before he died. Proof to me once again that God guides us if we are listening.

Thanksgiving was fun but I found myself wanting to be home, staying in my familiar routine. I'm sure that's normal -- it's my safe place and where I feel peace. Though I enjoyed time with each family member, at times my mind would ponder the question of where do I fit in now? They're family by marriage and they feel like family, but without Ken, what happens later?

This week has been a whirlwind of catching up and decorating for Christmas. Contrary to what one would believe, the joy of the season is lifting my heart and reminding me daily of our shared love for the holidays. Bring on the snow (supposed to get 4 inches starting tomorrow) and let the bells ring.

God Bless!