Sunday, Dec 25, 2022 at 6:16 AM

One of the blogs I read shared a poem from an Irish guy; a memory of his childhood, which he wrote after spending an adult Christmas alone in his Dublin flat.

And I'm sitting here, alone on Christmas. And it sounds dramatic and sad.

But it's not.

I've politely turned down multiple invitations for last night and today.
I'm loved and remembered.
I'm lying here thinking about my Christmas childhood memories. I think of bright, warm homes set against the cold and dark outside.
I hear the laughter.
I remember looking up at the sky, often, which is the correct orientation at Christmas. It's no mistake that there's an emphasis on the stars in holiday songs.

I'm basking in nostalgia.
Nostalgia, from the Greek:
Nostos, homecoming
Algia, safe return

It's something we all yearn for. The safety of home. Going home.

To live a life of meaning, however, demands that we leave the safety and comfort of home.
To strike out with courage and discover what the world has in store for us.
To be brave.
To let the past be the past. To leave it where it belongs. To look back, but not stare.

Today I warm myself by the fires of Christmas past.

Tomorrow I will strike out and begin walking toward Christmas yet to come.

Merry Christmas.

Life is full of good.
You're here for a reason.
Don't give up.