Just around the first of last year I posted this photo of my blessings jar. It was New Year’s Eve 2014 and these sweet jars began popping up all over social media – and I immediately had to have one.
Of course by the time I got around to making mine it was late, well past 8pm, and that meant I had to make do with what I could lay my hands on in the house. A quart sized mason jar, pretty ribbons and a hand written tag – et viola – I was in business.
This little beauty started 2015 on our window ledge (she looked so at home in the greens and candles). On January 7th we took down the decorations (always after Epiphany – unless the tree is so bald it’s a hazard) and the jar lived on the kitchen counter (firmly my domain) until I pulled the trigger on a new desk and set up the office in late February. She’s lived on my desk between framed photos ever since.
On a more or less daily basis I write a note of thanks on a slip of paper and add it to the jar; somedays are wonderful and I write many notes. Other days I get lost in the hunt for paper or pen. Some days are a challenge and I sit and stare at my jar and wonder why she mocks me.
A year later I had the joy of looking back over 297 little notes. I smiled and I cried and smiled some more.
2015 was just like raising a toddler. The tantrums are epic, public and crazy making. The sweet moments when they fall asleep in your lap and you don’t move them are precious. The ‘firsts’ make your pride swell. The funny moments when you’re playing dress up and little hands give you Elsa’s tiara and the tiny voice calls you ‘Queen Mommy’ those moments you file away and keep – forever.
I’m crazy grateful (no pun intended) for this quart sized mason jar. The memories she holds are priceless. The most special to go back and read are the little things, the memories that slipped my mind and are only brought back when I read my own notes.
Like this one. 1.8.15 – I am so very thankful the power was restored! I had completely blanked on the day into night last year when we lost power and had no heat or hot water during a frigidly cold afternoon. At 4:30pm I was packing overnight bags and frantically scrambling, wondering how I was going to carry the bags and my twenty month old down seven flights of stairs. I had been trying to hold out until Prince Charming could get back, but it was just too cold. I had to move Sinatra. That’s when I heard the click and hum and the light in the kitchen snapped on. Reading those nine words a year later gave me the chills that only come with an answered prayer.
Another. 3.13.15 – My baby had the biggest, brightest smile on the carousel today. Thank you, thank you, thank you to the woman working the ride who just said ‘Wave at me when you’re done, ok?’ It was so, so cold and so, so worth it. Yes, to some that’s the day Sinatra’s Mom lost her shooter marble. I bundled up a twenty-two month old and took her to the zoo, to ride the carousel. The lady who worked the ride totally got it. She saw the membership card and joked about how sometimes you just can’t be inside anymore. And we couldn’t. Couldn’t be in the house one more day, couldn’t pretend walking around the mall was an adventure anymore. We rode those bugs five or six times – in a row. Magic.
And because three is the charm:
7.2.15: I passed. I’m a CPC. I passed. Yeah, I passed my CPC exam this year.
When I began this collection I had grand plans to burn the slips in a roaring fire on New Year’s Eve 2015. I didn’t do that. I tucked them away and set the empty jar back on my desk, between the photos.