December 26th and I’ve survived The Holidays. Each year, the struggle to make it through gets more difficult for me. Each year adds a layer of expectations that I haven’t been able to meet, expectations that I have that remain unmet, and trauma or disappointments that I can’t overcome or erase. I try my best to light at least one candle in the dark. There’s a finer line than there should be between lighting a candle in the dark — making someone happy with tasty food, the right gift, sharing joyful experiences — and simply succumbing to the commercialism and the greed and the sensory overload.

This year, I finally let Christmas go and we only celebrated Hanukkah in my home. It was mostly a huge relief, with a tinge of sadness. My children were raised with both Christmas and Hanukkah — as I was and as my parents were. But that multi-faith approach no longer functions in my life. So I packed up old family ornaments and sent them off to new homes, where they’ll bring joy and help make new memories.

I’ve let a few other things go this year. I finally let go of my identity as an oil and gas professional and a geologist. I let my memberships in two professional organizations lapse — AAPG and AIEN. I’d belonged to AAPG for over thirty years. There’s also a sense of relief there, with a tinge of sadness. But recognizing that, two years’ post retirement, I am never going to work in the energy industry again is a realistic acknowledgement and I try to convince myself that 32 years was not a waste of a lifetime — if for no other reason than it has allowed me to provide for my family.

I’ve added some things this year as well. Shortly after the 2022 started, Temple Beth Israel was invaded by a lone gun-man in Colleyville, Texas. My synagogue is not that different from Beth Israel. I have spent much of this year researching security for houses of worship, applying for grants, consulting with security experts on how to make our Congregation safer. In 2023, we’ll use the grant money we received to make those upgrades a real. I’ve added a more visceral understanding of that lack of security that’s always been there. We try to shine a light but the darkness of hate is all around us.

We’ve taken on more responsibility for family who are unable to care for themselves this year. Medical assistance; financial assistance; child care assistance; educational assistance. It feels like there are so many now who struggle to manage their daily lives. Some find their feet again. Some never will. I am trying to let go of those expectations that they will find themselves and accept that fact.

My art, and the small business I’m trying to build with that art, is a light in the darkness for me. I have had to slow down the rate of growth, decrease the hours of creating, and carving out the time for myself has become an act of will again — a familiar inheritance from 32 years in the corporate world. A couple of years ago, that light was more of a bonfire. Now, it’s a candle I protect with my body — turning my back to the wind to keep it lit.

I am not unhappy that 2022 is over. I do not think 2023 will be much different. But I will continue to keep the candle burning.

When my husband and I got married, not only did we become a blended family of 5 children, we also became a blended family of 3 dogs — Boadie, Batya, and Laila. Laila was the Grande Dame of the pack. The oldest, the calmest, and the most patient of the three. She had the biggest grin. She was also the biggest beggar at the table. And she ate some really disgusting things in the backyard. She tolerated grandbabies crawling on her. She tolerated her ‘fur brother,’ Boadie, licking and chewing on her ear until it was soaking wet. She came to Sunday School so our pre-K class could learn to be gentle with a dog.

Laila was a ‘rescue’ dog, a mix of mostly beagle and something else. Andrew got her as a puppy. Right after he brought her home, he discovered she had only one functioning kidney, which meant she piddled all over the house. They operated to remove the kidney which solved the piddling problem. But during surgery, they left the heating pad she was lying on turned up too high, which caused 3rd degree burns across her back. As a result of the skin grafts and healing, she had a bit of a Frankenstein pattern of lines on her back. Laila was the smartest of our dogs too. Andrew describes telling her to get her leash, when she was a puppy, so they could go for a walk. And when she pulled out all the toys, Andrew could tell her to clean up and she’d put all the toys back in the basket. That was before my time.

Laila left us at the end of May at 16+ (human) years. She and Batya were due for their annual shots, but when Andrew took them in to the Vet, Laila had not been feeling well all day. The Vet suggested we bring her home and watch her overnight. Laila ate her dinner, went over to the dog bed in front of the fireplace and didn’t move for the rest of the evening. Before we went to our own bed, I covered her up with a blanket because she was shivering. Usually, all three dogs slept in our bedroom. Sometime in the night, I woke up, positive that I had heard the tags on her collar clinking. I sat up and peered at the end of the bed in the dark. Mind you, I wear glasses, which I didn’t put on. But I saw a dark shadow move across the floor and settle at the end of our bed. The other two dogs were sleeping up on the bed, at the foot. I was relieved and said out loud, “Oh, Laila’s come into the bedroom!” But in the morning when we got up, Laila was still in the living room, on the dog bed, and clearly hadn’t moved. She was not doing well. Andrew rushed her back to the Vet but with COVID protocols still in place, he couldn’t go in with her. His last view was the confusion in her eyes as the technician took her inside.

I’ve waited a bit to write this post as the subject was a bit raw. But I also don’t want to forget, so I write this short story, collect the pictures, and share. I want to remember that sense that Laila came into our room that last night. Maybe Laila wanted so strongly to be in our room with us and the other dogs, that I could feel it. Or maybe she was telling us goodbye.

This year, during the gifting season of Hannukah and Christmas, I wanted to give all, or mostly all, handmade items. I was largely able to meet my goal; the gifts were definitely a reflection of the creative journey I took in 2019, focusing on re-purposing and re-using found items, particularly paper. I’ve already talked about re-using the paper backing of sanitary pads for my cranes. Oddly enough, cranes only played a minor role in my gift giving though. I spent a lot of time playing with old books — folding pages of books found at thrift stores and tearing apart a give away old dictionary. The piece that took the longest is pictured above — a piece of abstract artwork a gave to my son. The four books are folded in a very simple geometric pattern. In the center is a bouquet of origami butterflies. Hidden in the pages of the books are some vintage pressed butterflies that I found for $2 at a consignment store. Fortunately, my son loved his artwork.

My sister, who celebrates Christmas, received this tree made of paper roses from the old dictionary I found at work. I originally was going to make a set of three trees of different sizes. But the roses took way longer to make then I realized ’cause I had to let the glue dry overnight. And they were glued twice. So, she got one tree . . . Sorry, Jen!

Several gifts were traveled-inspired, as I spent so much time on the road this year. The watercolor looking picture is actually a photograph I took from Signal Hill, hiking around St John’s (Newfoundland) one evening after work. I used the Waterlogue app on my phone to convert the photo to the image above. I liked it so much that I then used Snapfish to print a copy on canvas for my husband and additional copies printed on foam core for my Dad and my daughter.

The gift pictured on the right is another quirky re-use of ‘found’ materials. I take the ‘do not disturb signs’ from every hotel room I stay in. I guess that qualifies as ‘found,’ doesn’t it? The new, different ones get hung on a frame outside my bedroom door in a not so subtle attempt to discourage the kids from coming in (no, it doesn’t work — my stepdaughter didn’t realize they were ‘do not disturb’ signs for a year). Anyway, with lots of duplicates and extras, I created this collage for my older daughter . . . She’s a grad student with a wicked dry sense of humor and I thought she might hang it outside her office.

I did revert to some of my old favorite crafts. The crocheted blanket was a gift for my 4 year old grandson. Once upon a time (before he was born), I had started another afghan for him — the small blue squares — but that one never got finished. I had chunky yarn left over from an afghan I made for Andrew’s Mom and from an afghan I made for my youngest daughter. So I used the leftover yarn and the leftover squares to create something new and soft and snuggly. All while tutoring my oldest son in Algebra. This afghan represents Thomas’ final exam. By the way, he got a C in the class, which was, in my opinion, a triumph!

The gift, pictured on the right above, required me to learn how to use my new sewing machine — definitely slowed me down. I lost three sewing machines in Hurricane Harvey. My children gifted me with a new one for my birthday this past year. With all the traveling, I hadn’t had time to open it up. But Thomas, bless his heart, had bought a boy’s size small Dungeons and Dragons themed tshirt as a momento when his favorite card shop went out of business. Thomas is 6′ 7″ and weighs closer to 300 lbs than 200 lbs. He was not to going to wear this t-shirt. He entrusted me with his shirt and it needed to be turned into a throw pillow for his bed. So, I learned how to use the sewing machine. It was so liberating to be able to sew again!

Cranes did figure in my gift-giving in one small way. I decided that one evening, for Hannukah, everyone would get a gift of homemade peanut butter fudge (Thanks to Leslie @my100yearoldhome for the recipe). I packaged a few pieces for each person in a chinese-style take out box and glued a small sliver crane on each one. It’s the closest I come to a ‘Martha Stewart’ moment . . . unfortunately, the little boxes aren’t all that photogenic. When I posted this photo on Instagram, someone thought they were bugs. Which, when I look at it, I totally get. They do look like bugs.