Possibilites

I awoke before daylight this morning, a thing that is not so very hard to do on a winter’s day when even the sun itself wants to sleep in just a tad longer. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I slipped out of my warm bed and into my fuzzy slippers that were waiting by my bedside and padded into the living room. I blindly clicked a switch and the lights on my Christmas tree illuminated a cozy corner of the room and touched my heart with a gentle joy.  I noted that there are still no ornaments on the tree, just the white lights shining among the branches like tiny little ice crystals.  There seemed to be a hope in the simplicity of the sight. A feeling of possibilities.

Through the window I could see just a touch of daylight.  I wrapped my robe more tightly around me and walked to the large window that looks out over the rooftops of the charming homes in my neighborhood and the banks of the river with the pine-tree-covered hills beyond. Everything appeared to be white. I stood entranced as if watching a beautiful stage being slowly illuminated.  As the lightness grew I could see snowflakes the size of goose feathers silently falling and I was again struck with the beauty of the quiet simplicity and pureness of what was unfolding before me.  Again, in that moment, a feeling of hope and possibilities seemed to recharge my lonely heart.

I walked to my studio desk where just last night I had tidied up my paints and brushes and attached a clean white watercolor paper to my art board.  This morning it appeared to be another beautiful white enticement with a hope of possibilities waiting for my touch.

My stomach growled and I suddenly remembered that yesterday I had purchased a box of hot chocolate mix in anticipation of the arrival of my grandchildren on Christmas Eve, so I headed to the kitchen to heat some water and to take the bow off the new mug that I found on my doorstep last night just moments after I heard the knock on the door, no one was there, just the mug in a festive bag and no gift giver’s name on the card. It had my initial on the mug which was filled with candy and nuts. It came at a moment when I was feeling discouraged and more than a little bit lost.

For over two years I have known what I needed to do.  From the time of Dale’s illness I knew that I needed to help him fight, take him to the many doctor’s appointments, survive the sleepless nights trying to comfort him while he courageously dealt with the pain. Then, his death and knowing that I needed to take care of all the things related to that horrific and yet in the final moments, beautiful event. The sudden new requirements of widowhood, the lawyers, the bills, getting the house ready to sell, giving away so much, going through Dale’s many things with all of the memories attached, packing, moving to my sister and brother-in-law’s home that became a beautiful bridge between the then and the now periods of my life while I still worked at Dale’s business and searched for a new home. I finally found my place and then came the quest to fit into smaller quarters what I had packed away in storage, establish a new décor design, buy new furniture, pack up (again), retire from work, move in and work at the task of getting settled.  Fill the pantries, establish a routine, become familiar with my surroundings, where to shop, where to get gas etc. etc. etc.

And now, this morning I realize that the angst I was feeling last night stems from the fact that I’ve done it - All those things on my to-do list.  My life now is a blank canvas. No wonder I’m concerned, when was the last time my life fit into that description? I’m a bit stuck with this new realization.  Nothing and no one (at least of the mortal kind) is guiding or directing my steps through the long days now. Everything and everyone else is tucked neatly into their places now. I’m not responsible for anyone or any thing really. It’s actually a little unnerving, somewhat confusing and quite lonely on the other side of the long, rough and unexpected journey that brought me to this destination in my life.  

I think I should give this cartoon a new caption now being: 

                     “Ok, I’m Finally Here!!…Now what?”

And then in my mind’s eye I see the me of nearly 10 years ago pulling my carry-on bag out of the overhead bin of the plane that had landed in Copenhagen Denmark after a long and often times bumpy journey across the American continent and the wide Atlantic Ocean. I was alone, I didn’t have a plan other than it was something I had always wanted to do since I was a child and now here it was, my ancestral home waiting for me to explore; an entire country filled with possibilities and all I had was…time and a desire to figure out why I had been given this opportunity.

I pour the boiling water into the mug and the hot chocolate is now too hot to sip so I take it into my study. I see a blank paper on my desk. It’s my “to-do” list.  And normally, in the past, it would be filled with more items than I could possibly do in a day’s time but today it doesn’t even say “To-Do”, just a blank white page. I sit at my computer and open up a blank white Word document....

I’m suddenly reminded of a statement by Larry R. Lawrence that I read recently:

"Our Heavenly Father knows our divine potential. He rejoices every time we take a step forward.”

And so I take a drink of the hot chocolate, set it down, look at the blank screen, pick up the mug again and take another drink, it’s good and it’s warm and it’s comforting and I begin to write.

The sun is up now, there is even a break in the snow clouds. As I take on the task of stepping into my next reality, I realize I need to reach into the inner me. The time is mine now and I don’t want to waste it in any way. I need to pray for comfort and ask for an understanding of what I am to do now, at this new juncture:  this actual arrival at blank canvases and possibilities.

I remember standing at the quarry in Carrera Italy and thinking of Michelangelo’s statement that he would look at a block of white marble until he could see the figure inside that needed to be released and then he would get to work. And then later while standing at the Academia in Florence I studied and absorbed the mastery of his work - Atlas, a prisoner escaping from the stone.

Clearly, it’s a time for me to bundle up in my warmest attire and take a walk along the shore to think and pray and seek to understand how I can release the inner me now.  The me that is focused on being right here, right now and determining how I am to fill in all of these blank white canvases, both real and metaphorical.

I’ll keep you posted on this next un-requested step of being a widow!