This is one of those stories that had to be written right now and if I didn’t take the time right now to throw words on the page I might have lost courage. I come from a long line of WASP-y people who do our best to not show emotions.

I am a poet and an actor. Asking me to not show emotions is like telling me not to breathe. The way I don’t show emotions is to completely shut off my creativity which I have done on more than one occasion but tonight, in the corner of my living room in Bakersfield, California this is a story that is begging to be heard, felt and shared.

I don’t have an image to share on social media that captures the best gift I received in 2018.

I will never forget it. It can never be replicated. I was both wholly alone and entirely connected in the less than five minutes this gift existed.

It was after a more than slightly unconventional to me Christmas Eve service in a small church in Flagstaff, Arizona. I was the last of my family group to arrive as I slid into the seat next to my sister-in-law. I greeted my brother, who was seated on the other side of my mother, and my sister, her husband and my niece who were sitting in the row behind us.

When the service ended, I stood and waited to greet my eighty-six-year-old mother as she left the pew.

I didn’t expect her to grab my hand and hold it with such tight insistence. It was then I noticed her other hand gripping the cane she had acquired in the months between this and my last visit.

My hand had never been held so tightly, with such fierce determination and so much love.

She let go of my hand only to shake the pastor’s hand as we left the sanctuary.

It didn’t matter that the piercing cold hit my face with force or that I didn’t know what car we were walking her toward. What mattered was she chose me to hold her hand on that cold Christmas Eve.

None of our past aches entered the silence we shared as we focused on each step we took. None of our misunderstandings or lost moments or fretting about endless minor details that often come between a mother and daughter rose above our sole intention: to stay connected as we got Mom safely home.

I helped my mother into my brother’s car and while I am sure arrangements were discussed for me to meet the family back at the house before I turned and walked alone to my car I don’t remember a word.

I remember using my phone’s flashlight to reach my cold car parked on the edge of the unlit parking lot. The pine trees stood silently as I started to cry, suddenly so grateful my children opted not to come to church. Their absence gave me this opportunity to be my mother’s guide and for that brief moment in time, be the most important person in her life – a rarity when one is born into a family with six children.

Earlier that morning I spoke with my father whose biggest news was Mom hadn’t fallen in the last two and a half months. This was a relief to him and good news to me since I knew her falling was now much too regular as her experience of Parkinson’s disease progressed.

I’ve heard people discussing gifts in the days that have gone by since Christmas, but I have remained silent, softly smiling. I don’t have an image to share on social media that captures the best gift I received in 2018.

Julie JordanScott, the Creative Life Midwife, is a writer, a poet performer, a Creativity Coach, a Mother of three and one of Nancy Shryock Jordan’s daughters. When she was thirteen-years-old her mother surprised her with a guitar from Santa, all four grandparents and her parents. That was the first time Julie received a gift from her mother she didn’t know she wanted.

Yesterday Facebook started making video year-end recaps for its users and I was slightly surprised most of my images they posted were family, family and more family. Extended family and my children with one photo of an outing with friends, one photo of the play I was in, and one photo about my social media work.

Add to that surprise and today’s Bridge to the New Year prompt and another reality clunked me over the head: my social life has taken a nose dive in the past couple years but this year quite markedly.

What was the best party or social engagement I attended? What was the most significant?

Looking back, I didn’t attend many parties – in fact, I didn’t attend any at all after a Super Bowl Party – except for my parent’s 65th anniversary party. For someone who used to attend several parties a month, this is one of those big red flags that sometimes remains invisible and reminds me why year end recaps that cover a wide variety of themes are so important.
Wait: I stop myself. I did attend Katherine’s ordination and there was a party involved.

There were, however, two parties I attended in Bakersfield: a book club related Super Bowl party. I attended a first birthday party of a precious little boy.

I don’t remember invitations flooding in, either. I remember one birthday party invitation, but I wasn’t feeling well emotionally so I declined.

That. Is. It. In. a. nutshell.

“I wasn’t feeling well emotionally so I declined.”

My task for 2019 is to challenge my “not feeling well” through creating context so that I will be included, so I won’t be isolated. I have made some new connections locally and have been asked to participate in a video project and have an article assignment for a local publication.

My book club is party-like at times. There is a meeting this Friday which I hadn’t planned attending because I didn’t read the book (couldn’t find it easily and it isn’t a particularly compelling title but now I am thinking I will read excerpts and go anyway.)

I have had “Host a Sunday before Thanksgiving Gathering” on my list of wish-to-do’s for years. This weekend I am putting together a calendar for the year and working backwards to insure my biggest projects have tasks broken down throughout the year.

This will be one of them.

I will also add “getting together with friends in the “in between” times. ” to my calendar. I used to love doing this when I attended more parties. i see now, visibility helps.

Small, meet-ups for coffee. Casual movie matinees. Taking note and following up on birthdays. Texts for no reason letting people I care about know I am thinking of them and want to include them more in my simple, everyday activities.

It may seem like a simple, not much there prompt and yet it is so much more.

Join the community forming for Bridge for the New Year now.