January 2nd... resolution check list

Having just finished 35 minutes on the treadmill (resolution #5), I am going to spend some time blogging (#7) and then read a chapter or two of Holly Springs, (#6) while I gently eat an orange(#4). I bought nothing today (#9), and I kept things neat (#8) (although didn't really make any progress on that one...) I had a quiet time with the fabulous Preparing My Heart for Advent devotional (it goes through January 6) this morning, so #2 was definitely covered. That leaves #3 -- prayer, and #1 --identifying Godlight. # 10 will have to be put off until tomorrow morning when I'll send an e card to dear Sue on her birthday. (It must be a bummer to have a birthday near the holidays...)

I'll begin my prayer journal after I blog -- it's a red Moleskin weekly date book, 5" x 7", with a slot for each day on the left and a blank page on the right -- just enough for prayer notes and lists. (I use a black daily dated Moleskin for my journal...this is my third year, and I carry a small Moleskin in my purse to jot notes...) (I should add Moleskin to my list of favorite things!)
So...
That leaves the Godlight.

Today's Godlight is that I'm alive and healthy.

About a week ago I had emailed the woman who called me about singing and asked her how her sister in law had died, if she had had children, etc. I felt it important to know something about this woman before spending 2 days with her relatives. Today a wonderfully descripive email arrived.

She was 51 years old, and fought breast cancer for 9 years. She has a 15 year old daughter (so do I!) and a 21 year old son (my oldest is 20). She was described as "Martha Stewart," a fabulous cook, a talented artist, a nurse, and a "sweet and caring person, devoted to her family."

Wow. We likely would have been fast friends, had we had the chance to know one another.

And so, my patch of Godlight, my pocket of joy, is that I am alive and healthy. My problems are quite small in comparison to breast cancer. Nine years of fighting it...incredible. Those years were likely filled with many thoughts of "this could be my last..." I'll bet she was noticing the Godlight. How open her eyes must have been as she struggled with her own mortality.

Chances are I'll live past age 51. But it's not guaranteed. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I could live as if each encounter might be the last one... each holiday, each celebration? Oh, if only I could recognize the small stuff as small stuff, consistently, and celebrate the moments.

I am alive, and I am healthy. Thank you, Father.