There is a week between Christmas and the new year for the following reason: to give us time to clear the house of all things Christmas and prepare for spring. Right? Am I the only one who is ready for warm weather by December 26th? I am practically pulling out the spring clothes. Except for the fact that I never put them away because I am just not that organized. What good is winter without Christmas?

So I do things like this. I put shells in a jar with the starfish that was living in my Christmas garland just yesterday. And I display it as a reminder of good things to come.
Each December I panic at least once, worried that I’m not savoring the season completely enough. I anticipate the after-Christmas-letdown. I think that is a left-over fear from childhood. Because as an adult, I love after-Christmas. I love taking down the decorations and clearing out the extra stuff. I love the fresh and the new that comes with January. I always forget how ready I am for the future by the time it arrives.
Generally at years end, I look back and reflect and pour over sentiment of what the past year has held. But this time I am ready for 2009 and what it will bring. I am looking forward with excitement and anticipation. I’m throwing open the blinds and letting the sunlight of a new day pour in around me. There are things on the horizon of this new year only beginning to dawn in my heart. I look forward to sharing them with you.

In the meantime, I’m off to look for my flip flops.

Not only is this what Nana’s house looked like on Christmas afternoon, it is also what my brain feels like this week. Finding the important in the midst of the crazy is a challenge today. But I know it is in here somewhere, hiding beneath all these piles of laundry and torn up gift wrap.

What fun this has been! I have loved LOVED loved reading all of your sweet moments and memories over the past two days. What a refreshing perspective you have offered me. I have to admit it was a bit nerve racking standing at the door of this post before I hit publish: its no fun to throw a party if no one shows up.

So thank you. For showing up. Mostly, thank you for recognizing the importance of noticing smallness with me. Thank you for celebrating finding life in the little things. You have been such an encouragement to me.

If you didn’t get a chance to link yet, please continue to do so! I love reading these and cannot get enough of these kinds of posts.

Tomorrow I’ll be posting photos of my Christmas garland, as the Nester is having a little party of her own. If you have your garland up, head on over to Nesting Place in the morning and link up!

Raise your paw if you feel like the Grinch’s dog yet? Poor little guy, all weighed down with a load he was never meant to carry. I’ll admit to feeling this way more than once lately, even as I’ve purposed to notice and celebrate the small moments in the midst of my everyday.

From the looks of the marvelous, heartfelt, honest comments you have all left this week, I am not the only one who has been thinking about the struggle between celebrating what is while anticipating what’s to come during this first week of December. I hope you have been treasuring up the small everyday moments in your heart to share with all of us next week!
There will be a Mister Linky set up on Monday for you to link up to a post you have done or a new post you are working on to share with us how you are unwrapping the gift of the everyday during this season of Advent. Feel free to grab this button to include on your post. I look forward to celebrating smallness with you, even as we prepare for bigger things to come.

The book I came to buy was not easy to find. As I searched the crowded shelves, a quick movement to my left caught my attention.

As her mother browsed the books, the little girl by her side passed the time. She she danced with small, secret movements. Twice she glanced in my direction, pleasantly aware of her only audience. Perhaps she was remembering steps she learned that week in dance class. It was obvious to me that in her head, those movements were much larger, graceful and real. As I watched her from the corner of my eye, a thought occurred to me.

This little girl will probably never become a famous ballet dancer. Perhaps she doesn’t even desire that. At best, she will dance her way through college, possibly on a scholarship. Most likely, her interest in ballet dancing will fade as she enters high school where school spirit and team sports are emphasized. She may choose to join one of them, or she may not. Either way, her extra-curricular specialty will become only a past-time or a word on a future list of hobbies or a conversation piece.

That leaves her with only one conclusion: ballet dancing is not for later. Ballet dancing is for now. That little girl doesn’t have to be taught to dream of dancing forever. She does that naturally. But what would it take to convince her that dancing is for now?

Have you ever had the sense you are waiting for something? In the waiting, there is an expectation that things are going to change and that right now isn’t as important as later. What will it take to convince me that right now is later?