Horizontal Decisions

The first day of 2010 - a day of reflection, transition, and renewal. A day to begin again, a full cup - a full year - that runneth over. A day to begin anew and become the person we are most meant to be. Who is that for you?

I've asked myself that a lot lately - as I head into my fortieth year (not yet, mind you, I've got 30 days left as a 39 year-old!). Forty feels like a big decade - and I mean that in the best of ways. Like I'm finally a real adult, capable of fully understanding the weight and blessing of that responsibility. The responsibilities of marriage and motherhood and personhood - how those all mesh and intermingle and sometimes rub. Trying to be true to all parts of oneself. It isn't easy but it isn't optional for me either. So I'm trying - really trying - to get it right.

Trying to commit to being the best I can be in all my roles. Some will have to go. Those that are on the periphery. I'm O.K. with that. If it means being a better me, then that will mean a happier me. And if I'm happier, then letting go of what doesn't serve me is the best thing I can do. Even if others might not agree.

Awake at 3:22 a.m. this morning, I began to make some horizontal decisions (ones made while lying flat on my back, in the middle of the night, in the dark) that I think have been brewing for awhile. Sometimes I don't advocate for this kind of horizontal decision-making but there are other times when I think it's a necessity. When something keeps visiting you regularly and doesn't simply evaporate in the morning . . . when you think about it and have a dead-center knowing that something must change.

I am reminded of one of my favorite books - Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert - where she is in the bathroom kneeling on the tile in the middle of the night, sobbing and sick, knowing deep down something is not right in her world and eventually coming to grips with the fact that her marriage must end. Now, my nighttime awakenings have involved no tears or marital catastrophes, but the certainty and fortitude behind my feelings is similar. Some things must change.

I'm not going to be the typical New Year's resolutionist and come up with some big lofty list that will come undone in a week or two. That's not what I'm after. I want to find a way, more now than ever (and turning forty has a lot to do with it), to be authentically me. To walk my talk. To not only say the things I need to hear but to live them in my own life. To bless my family with love and kindness and to not feel so stressed and tired by busy-ness that I forget what my true business is. There's this quote I repeat a lot to myself: "I'll tell you what I came to do. I came to live out loud." And to live out loud, I need to be able to hear myself, speak my truth, and live it. All together. Now.

This is the time. This is the place. The time is now. To live my best life. To live your best life. For me to fully fill my forty years with all that I have to give in this moment in time. It's what I have. And I am so thankful.

To start, I know I need to write something every day. It's where my soul's heart beats. In my writing, I feel alive, connected, and open. Maybe it's a word, a phrase, or an entry here but something needs to land on paper every day. My dad used to say, "A page a day, Meg. And in a year, you'll have written a book." There it is. The dream aloud: a book. And from my father, better yet.

A page a day. Or a quote or a feeling or a line. And if you don't hear from me, check in. The comments and connections fuel me and make me feel like perhaps this blog could someday become bigger than me. I'd like for it to. All of my friends and family - and friends I've yet to meet - charting and sharing their own moments of grace. I couldn't imagine a story I'd more like to read.

To all the grace 2010 has in store - and then some! Happy New Year!