Of January magic

Days spun of sparkles on snow, wispy daydreams, and kind moments

Better late than never, they say! That’s how I feel sending out my end-of-month letter when it’s already February 5!

January flew by. Scrolling through my camera roll to collect its magical moments, I expected to see a lot of photos and activities. It felt like such a full month.

To my surprise, I saw ... not much! Just a lot of pictures of snow (and cute grandkids, of course).

Hmmmmm.... What exactly did I do in January?

I poured another cup of tea and tried to remember. Slowly, like the scattered pieces of the puzzle on my table, the memories began to sort themselves into a serene image.

Days spun of sparkles on snow, wispy daydreams, and kind moments.

Reaching the end of the month, I realized that nothing “profound” had occurred which, to an overachiever like me, was the most profound thing about the month!

You see, I’ve been clawing my way toward a month like this for decades. A month where the days follow one another in an easy, ordered, rhythm. A month where urgency fades and I can’t point to a single BIG THING that happened.

It feels like a quiet, magical miracle.

*****

One moment in early January shifted my energy for the month.

I’d gone to take care of one of my grandchildren while his mama traveled for work. Usually, I slide right in as she slides out, and he barely seems to notice. After all, I’ve been part of his daily scene from the delivery room until now - albeit mostly through FaceTime.

But this time was different. As I tucked him in his big boy bed and turned out the light, he seemed troubled. Sure enough, as the door clicked behind me, the cries began. “Mommmmy. I want Mommmmmy!”

Although we’d had a fun-filled day, when the darkness settled in, he knew mommy wasn’t in the room next door.

I waited for a few moments, listening to his increasing wails interspersed with sobs. He wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon and my Mimi heart couldn’t take it anymore.

Opening his bedroom door, his little body stood, illuminated in the hallway light, arms outstretched. I hurried across the room and wrapped my arms around him, his curly head burrowing into its familiar spot under my chin. We began to rock, and he was asleep in moments.

I thought of all the times I’d held him just like this. My chin resting on his curls, the warmth of his body against mine. The creak of the rocker. The breath. The heartbeat. The rhythm as old as time.

The next day, I wrote these words in my journal:

“Last night, you rocked little man to sleep. How sweetly he curled into your body - a warm, familiar place where he’s been falling asleep in safety since he was born. Do you know what a precious gift that is?!

Really, if that was all you accomplished during this lifetime, you would have changed the world!”

In that moment, I felt deep wonder in the truth I’d just written. In a world rocked by harm and hatred, being someone’s safe place could change the world by the difference it makes in them. Each tiny moment of security and love unlocking a healing cascade through their body. Rippling throughout their lifetime and impacting the way they think, move, and one day, love their own people.

Which, of course, would ripple through the others’ lives. On and on.

I could write an entire essay on the crazy ways I’ve tried to change the world. Some of them mildly successful on a very local level. Some of them downright absurd. Most of them quite exhausting.

Now it felt like I was being let off the hook. A little anticlimactic, if I’m being honest.

Could making a difference really be this simple?

I had to admit that rocking my grandbaby felt like I was holding the whole world in my arms. For those moments, nothing else mattered.

And maybe nothing else does ... which felt like a very strange thought to someone motivated by a lifelong pursuit of purpose.

Creating safe and welcoming spaces is a core value of mine as a mom, an innkeeper, and a restaurant owner. I want everyone to feel welcome and at ease around my table.

Yet, have I ever created a safe place for my own mind, body, and spirit?

For years, I’d excused my busy life by thinking, “I’m just trying to do good in the world.” All the while pushing myself past weariness, jangling my mind with an insane number of details, and ignoring the cries of my own timid inner child.

It occurred to me that I would never drive my precious grandchild that way. And that’s when my January took a turn.

January is typically a slower month at our inns. I found myself not rushing to fill the quiet hours, allowing them to become soft places I could curl into and rest. I stopped asking myself to work from morning til night and soothed my mind and body with gentle rhythms. I began noticing how safe (or unsafe) I felt in certain settings or relationships.

January became a month where self-care moved off the “I should make some time for this” list and began to feel like a really good way to live.

So, my dear friend, I don’t have anything profound to share, and that feels beautifully right. In fact, my January Magic moments just might change the world.

JANUARY’S MAGIC MOMENTS

* time at my writing desk - aka the love desk

* soaring above the clouds (I love my window seats!)

* pecan pie bread pudding with buttery bourbon sauce

* playing trains with my grandson - oh so many crashes!

* loving my inner child - more on that below!

* taking walks in the Georgia sun

* finding a book I’ve been wanting to read in a Little Free Library

* my grandson pointing at a tiny speck of an airplane and yelling “Hi Mommy ... I can’t reach you!”

* Door Dash - push a button or two and food appears on your doorstep (NOT something we can do in the woods!)

* cutting vegetables to simmer a stock

* reading in a cozy nest of blankets

* giant pumpkin chocolate chip cookies

* driving through snowy mountains that look like a movie scene

* Facetiming my daughter while her children make snow angels

* finally finding the courage to put my book on commission at a local shop!

* adding a beautiful teal Apophyllite rock to my collection

* brownie sundaes

* exchanging belated Christmas gifts with friends

* a fun temporary tattoo

* snow falling thickly for hours while I’m cozy inside

* my 81-year-old birthmother shoveling snow in a hunter’s orange jumpsuit!

* Jack Frost painting angel wings on my window

* watching movies with a visiting friend

* a left-behind treasure that will grace my writing desk until its owner returns - a wise and friendly guide

* painting my fingernails a wintry blue

* beginning a puzzle of a European market

* sending a birthday cake to my daughter

Enjoy this little video filled with glimpses of my January Magic

How have you been caring for yourself during these winter months? I’d love to hear if you have a moment. You can email me at amy@amyjae.com.

Thank you for being on this magical journey with me.