It seems that as soon as we unwrap that final gift, give that last hug goodbye on the night of Christmas, that we begin wrapping up the year as we see it. We gather together fallen scraps of abandoned wrapping paper, sweep pine needles under the rug, and pack away memories frozen in time through handmade ornaments in a dented, dusty box until an entire year passes once again.
The end of a thing is the beginning of another. And while there are days that I wish I could fast forward until it magically becomes easier, I must remind myself that the days are long and the years are short. That today, I have a 5 year old, a 2 year old, and a 1 year old.
Tomorrow I will have three teenagers, and the next day I will have grandchildren. Even our oldest can sense the year drawing to a close, and how each passing moment molds us and changes us for the next. She said with great sadness that she wished she could stay little forever, because when you are big your Daddy cannot flip you over his shoulder anymore. But, that no matter how old you are, you are never too old for tickles.
You are never too old for tickles.
You are never too far away for change; for growth. This year I turned 30, found a few more gray hairs, and enjoyed a movie-sized box of candy for breakfast more times than I care to admit.
Next year I plan to send out more handwritten notes on pretty cardstock. To spend more time with my grandmother. To mop my kitchen floor more than once a week, or at least before my husband’s work boots begin to stick to the linoleum.
I plan to slow down a tad on the four-lane, and remind myself that minivans do not qualify as an entry mode of transportation for the Indy 500. I will hold my head high when I experience yet another store meltdown, realize that I forgot my wallet at home, or that I missed a very important button on my shirt.
There are some things, however, that I refuse to change.
I will always wear my husband’s socks with my boots. I will secretly look forward to checking the mail, yet dread going to the post office. I will continue to brush my teeth more often than four out of five dentists recommend. And I will continue to make up random nicknames for my children and expect them to answer to them in public.
Here’s to looking forward with the wide eyes of hope for the New Year. To jumping in head first in faith to whatever God has planned next. May we laugh harder, hug longer, and remember that we are never too old for tickles.