On Christmas Day, I woke up alone. I’m Jewish, so this isn’t quite as terrible as it sounds, but there was that feeling, that thud in my chest of Where are my children? How is it that I don’t get to see their sweet faces beaming and bursting as they open presents today? I imagined them tearing at the paper with glee, squealing as they removed each treasure from their stocking. I imagined them with their grandparents and cousins getting so much delicious attention, playing board games in their pajamas, eating pancakes.

Anyway, we have these moments right? Those moments when we take a mental inventory and judge how far we’ve come. How the heck did I get here? I never thought my life would look like this. What have I accomplished? How is it possible that I’m a single mom? This is so strange and not at all what I planned… 

I looked at my phone. Want to come downstairs and watch the girls open presents?  It was my sweet neighbor downstairs, a fellow single mama with two little girls. She gets it. She is the one who, when I am away on a trip and flying home, will turn on some lights in my apartment and put the heater on so that I don’t come home to a cold, empty house. Yeah, that kind of friend. 

Yes! I texted back smiling.

I came down and watched them open gifts. They cheered after every box was opened. I took in their pure delight – the perfect proxy – and it was so good. And the girls made me gifts as well- a friendship bracelet in oranges and purples and a gorgeous hand-knit square in ombre blues, perfect for my altar.

The last two Christmases I have gone on a hike in Tennessee Valley. You can guess from the photo why… a long, gorgeous walk to the ocean. You land at a wild little cove with roiling waves, not the kind of water you would dare swim in, but the kind you bow to. The power and beauty is massive and overwhelming. You feel small there, but in the best possible way. You feel held because it’s so clear that it’s not about you, that there is so much more, that there is an entire Universe that has big plans. I like being humbled this way.

I picked up a smooth, black stone and held it in my palm facing the water. May I let go of whatever stands in the way of love and flow. I chanted this to myself as I took a few steps toward the water. May I let go of whatever stands in the way of love and flow. Then I threw the rock and watched the waves swallow it up.

Do you remember those pneumatic tubes from way back when? Your parents would drive along the side of the bank and deposit a check into that tube and it would shoot straight up into the ether. I couldn’t ever figure out where exactly it went but I like to imagine it went up to the sky, to the clouds, to the world of magical things!

This is also how I like to imagine our dreams, our wishes, our intentions… like the one I made at the ocean. We write it, speak it, and then we let it go. We put it in the cosmic pneumatic tube and it shoots up into the Mystery. 

This is a nice visual for the way we invite magic to co-create with us, to dance with us. We don’t have to do it all alone. I repeat: We don’t have to do it all alone.

Is there something you want to put in the Tube for 2018?

Feel free to make a comment or hit reply and leave it here. I will gather all the wishes and send them up. Consider this your virtual portal into the World of Magic.