New Year Means Living in the Present

Posted January 1st, 2010 by kerri and filed in small house living
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7 Comments

ny-005

The New Year. It means dif­fer­ent things to all of us. Time to reflect on the past; time to reflect on the future; time to make new res­o­lu­tions; or some may choose not to rec­og­nize it at all, try­ing to live their lives only in the present.

Since we’re at the end of the first decade of the “new” (is it still new now that it’s 10 year old?) cen­tury, pun­dits are choos­ing to reflect not only on the year, but 10 years.

Time Magazine called it “The Decade from Hell.”

In many ways, it could be seen as such with ter­ror­ist attacks, two major wars, an almost cat­a­strophic finan­cial melt­down. But I’m sure if we looked, we could find a lot that went right with this decade too.

For me, per­son­ally, it cer­tainly was a decade of upset, a lot of grief, and chal­lenges. This was the decade my mother turned “old” and needed my care. At the begin­ning of the decade, we lost my brother and toward the end, my mother. We also said good­bye to our beloved Doxie, Hershey, and two cats that had been with us most of our mar­riage. We also lost two of Dale’s beloved aunts and an uncle who was a strong male influ­ence in his life while he grow­ing up. We’ve each had a major med­ical chal­lenge (the first in our lives), and cer­tainly, we’re still liv­ing through the effects of this hor­ri­ble economy.

I hate to sound like a cliché, but it’s true that we wouldn’t be the peo­ple we are with­out the “downs” that come with the “ups.” Each step we take on the path of our lives leads us to the next adven­ture, or pre­pares us for the next chal­lenge. If we had never res­cued Hershey, we couldn’t have known first hand the spe­cial bond a res­cued dog can bring into our lives and if we hadn’t lost her after she lived a good life with us, it wouldn’t have opened up room in our home and hearts for Dakota and Sade.

My brother’s death was tragic and of course, if I could have him back, I would, but his end led me on a jour­ney of my own and helped me on my own path. Among other things, I wouldn’t have met some of the amaz­ing peo­ple I did while writ­ing “No Immediate Threat: The story of an American Veteran,” the story of his life. The same goes for my mother, whose death pro­pelled us into mov­ing to our Little House, which has brought us end­less sur­prises, from mak­ing me aware of The Small House Movement to meet­ing the great peo­ple (includ­ing my read­ers here) involved in it. Even the eco­nomic and finan­cial chal­lenges have pre­sented us with oppor­tu­ni­ties to learn and grow.

So, as I reflected on the past yes­ter­day, and did the lit­tle rit­u­als of cleans­ing (thanks read­ers!) by clear­ing some of the old year’s clut­ter in file cab­i­nets, pantries and clos­ets, and we did our rit­ual toast, my mind was in the present while hop­ing for a happy future.

Happy New Year, Dear Friends of Living Large!

7 Responses to “New Year Means Living in the Present”

  1. theshebearofeleven says:

    This past decade has been one of ups and downs for us, also. The ups were that three of our chil­dren were mar­ried to great mates, 15 grand­chil­dren were born. We began gar­den­ing and enjoy grow­ing our own food. The downs were my dad devel­oped demen­tia and it has been very hard on me emo­tion­ally. Also, the econ­omy has been a chal­lenge with my husband's busi­ness.
    I like your pos­i­tive atti­tude on this post, lessons are learned through the ups and downs!

  2. Sandra says:

    For me this was a tough decade. Especially since Sept. 25, 2004. My par­ents lived in Florida. Father was mis-diagnosed with Alzheimer's. He had extemely slow thy­doid and cataracts. This is the tough­est part. My mother tied him to a chair and left him to die. My hus­band called Adult Protective Services. They removed him from the home. Somehow he got put into hos­pice with no ter­mi­nal diag­no­sis!!! In Florida they prey on the elderly telling them it is free. Meidicare pays for it. From there the night­mare got worse. For 18 months we fought and fought the sys­tem. My sis­ter lied and said she had Power of Attorney. Get this she vis­ited her par­ent one time in 27 yrs. to go change Power of Attorney's to move all they stock money. But did not get POA over my father. I found out later we had joint. She hid the paper­work. Bought her­self a condo in Maryland telling out mother as soon as dad was dead she could move into it. All we wanted was dad to get cataract surgery so he could watch TV and read. Being PI's we got the gov't HHS involved. As soon as my sis­ter and nurs­ing home knew they were in trou­ble and knew we would get cus­tody of my father, They stopped med­ica­tions he got pnue­mo­nia and died. My hus­band felt like he failed my Dad and he had a heart attacked and had to have quadru­ple by pass from all the stress. This was in 07' Within a two month span I buried my father and took care of my hus­band. My sister's response was too bad Rick made it thru. Dad needed to be put out of his mis­ery. You see he never made her happy. Our mother she left her there in Florida to remain in the nurs­ing home. She has since sold the condo and bought her a retire­ment home.

    Us we have slowly recov­ered. My hus­band health is good. He has made an excel­lent come back.

    My father did not have alzheimer's. When he died the autospy showed oth­er­wise. I won­der how many other peo­ple are mis-diagosed?

    But this has been a hard pill to swal­low. I made the gov't pull an audit on my fathers medicare billing. To date out of 426 claims that were sent to medicare by the nurs­ing home and hos­pice provider all 426 were denied and they had to pay every penny back. I don't have the strength to fight any­more. Nor do I want to drag my hus­band thru it all again.

    Some things are good. We have our first grand­baby boy. Never thought we would see that. Our Son is in the Navy and trav­elled alot.

    • Kerri says:

      So sorry about your trou­bles, Sandra. The whole health­care sys­tem in this coun­try needs to be fixed.
      May your next decade be a bet­ter one.

  3. Mo says:

    Looking back, it was a good decade for us. It began with build­ing our pri­mary res­i­dence — a source of many bless­ings and the decade came to a close with us find­ing the Yonderosa and build­ing another dream.

    There were chal­lenges and low points but so far we've weath­ered them — even ben­e­fited from the expe­ri­ences when viewed with a wider perspective.

    Your advice is good — live in the moment, worry about the things you can do some­thing about. The rest will take care of itself.

    Have a Healthy, Happy and Prosperous decade!
    –Mo

    • Kerri says:

      This was of course, also the decade we built The Little House and we had many good times here even before we moved.

      You have a Happy and Prosperous decade as well!

  4. Kerri says:

    Happy New Year to you as well, Kathy — and con­grat­u­la­tions on that won­der­ful writ­ing gig you just landed. I look for­ward to read­ing all of your essays.

  5. Kathleen Winn says:

    I under­stand what you mean about need­ing the "downs" in life, in order to appre­ci­ate the "ups." This past decade has been for me, a lot like yours– a mix of good and bad. Certainly the best thing about the last ten years is that I finally stopped fan­ta­siz­ing about being a writer, and actu­ally made it my full time job.

    I wish it hadn't taken me so long to real­ize that I could make a suc­cess­ful career out of a dream. Though there is still much I want to accom­plish with my writ­ing, I've had enough suc­cess to know that it's my call­ing and the only kind of work that truly sat­is­fies my mind and spirit.

    We bought South Fork almost a decade ago. We had no idea the adven­ture and changes to our lives that would come about with the pur­chase of the prop­erty. It is now our haven, our place to retreat from busy urban life and con­nect with nature.

    My father's death from Alzheimer's was cer­tainly a low point in the past decade, but time has helped me come to terms with his loss and accept his pass­ing. I can smile when I think of him now instead of tear­ing up. Still miss him of course, but I was blessed to have such a won­der­ful father and I'm grate­ful that his love and spirit endure.

    I am look­ing for­ward to the new year and con­sider my lat­est writ­ing gig, com­ing right at the begin­ning of it, to be another sign from the uni­verse that I must per­se­vere in this craft. I will be clean­ing out clut­ter and re-organizing my office, just as you are doing. I think it's the best way to begin anew in 2010. My most crit­i­cal New Year's res­o­lu­tion is to respect my writ­ing and give it all the atten­tion and focus that it deserves. Good luck with all of your own endeav­ors Kerri– I look for­ward to another year of your won­der­ful writing!