A Quiet Pause, a Warm Cup of Tea, and a Few Thoughts at Seventy-Six

Along with the steady accumulation of years, there’s something about December that slows a fellow down a bit, isn’t there? The days grow short, the evenings settle early, and the whole world seems to take a long, frosty breath before Christmas comes shining around the bend. It’s a fine time to step back for a quiet moment, look around, and take stock of the blessings scattered along one’s path — some large, many small, all of them worth noticing.

And as it happens, today is my birthday — another turn around the sun, another year of stories shared, friendships cherished, and small joys gathered up like pinecones on a woodland walk.

Seventy-six of those turns now, which seems as good a number as any to pause for a moment and look back with a bit of gratitude — and perhaps a chuckle or two. I don’t make much fuss of birthdays anymore. These days, there’s more comfort in a warm cup of tea, a cozy chair, and the gentle thought that I’ve been granted one more year to try and put a little good into the world. Isn’t that enough of a celebration all on its own?

As I sit with that thought, I find myself feeling grateful — deeply so — for all of you who stop by to spend a few moments with me here on The Writing Pages and out in Honey Hill Country. Your kindness, your notes, your visits — they brighten my days more than you may know. In a world that can feel hurried and rough-edged at times, this little community has become a place of warmth and neighbourly goodwill. And that is a rare and treasured gift.

If birthdays teach anything, it’s to take nothing for granted — the people in our lives, the quiet mercies, the laughter that catches us by surprise, and the steady companionship of stories. And speaking of laughter, I find myself laughing more freely these days — from those spontaneous outbursts when something just plain tickles my funny bone, to shared belly laughs with friends and family, to the occasional gut-busting guffaw that invites a touch of embarrassment now and again. I’ve learned over the years that not taking oneself too seriously is good for the soul — and for the blood pressure. The world could do with a little more laughter, don’t you think?

And along with laughter, I’ve come to believe something simple but steadfast about folks in general — that if you look for the best in people, you’ll usually find it in good abundance. Will Rogers said, “I never met a man I didn’t like,” and I’ve found that, by and large, to be true in my own wanderings. Left to our own accord, most people are good-natured, helpful, and doing the best they can with the lives they’ve been given. Inside, we’re all more alike than different — hoping for a bit of steadiness, a touch of joy, and a safe, loving place for those dear to us. It’s a thought I may return to in more detail after the new year, because it feels worth lingering on — especially in the times we’re living through.

We each must follow our own wandering trail through life, but it surely helps to have a bit of company along the way. One of my most faithful companions these past years has been Little Red Bear, living rent-free in my head — though he’d tell you he pays his way in stories, laughter, and the occasional good idea.

Red and his friends, and all the kindly souls of Honey Hill Country, are always reminding me to meet the world with a bit more compassion, a bit more patience, a generous helping of good humour, and to be a light for others where we can. Those old, shared teachings — the simple ones about kindness, compassion, empathy, love, and helping others — seem to echo through their adventures. And Red asked me to mention he’s saying hello, but he’s whispering it because he doesn’t want me raising his rent.

Another year older? Yes. But also another year of trying to notice the good along the way, appreciate the simple, and share a bit of light wherever possible. In the end, aren’t those the things that carry us through the years and seasons?

So thank you, truly, for walking this path with me. For reading, for caring, for sharing a portion of your own days here. The road ahead is sure to bring its share of hills and hollers, but travelling it with good company makes all the difference.

Here’s to another year of shared stories, hope, kindness, and whatever small wonders and adventures we may enjoy along the way.

— Jim (and Red!)

P.S. from Little Red Bear —
Little Red Bear says he’s happy to walk this winding path with me — but he wants everyone to know he’s the one carrying the snacks.