This season has left me feeling parched and dry with a heart cracked wide open.
The details of these past two years are gone, much of life trudging on as it is and as it was. I want to remember. I know there was love and life and beauty and joy, but the sameness and the sorrow has swallowed up the pockets of special memories, leaving only a vast desert landscape.
We could lament these two years of squashed dreams and wonder when, if ever, we may look to a fertile future, but as your resident desert girl, let me assure you, hope is on the horizon. Year after year, I have borne witness to a parched earth bending towards beauty. Beauty and hope will rise, even out of the cracked desert floor.
This year, as we resolve, yet again, to dramatically change our lives, maybe it is time to remember that dramatic change is not what enables us to thrive.
Maybe this is our season to live in the desert, hunkering down in times of trial, digging deep into our reserves and shedding what we no longer need, so that when the rain and sun arrive, we are free to burst into life.
As the new year approaches, may we ask ourselves:
What is it that we truly need?
What are our hearts longing for?
And as we settle in with our pen and paper, may we remember that resolutions are not goals. Resolutions are not marked measurable edicts to achieve, they are simply commitments. Resolutions are guideposts for our lives.
I resolve to protect my time.
I resolve to put down what I am doing and look into my child’s eyes.
I resolve to listen to the stranger (and to the friend).
I resolve to speak up for justice.
I resolve to love as my neighbor needs to be loved.
I resolve to accept love that is given to me.
I resolve to be Jesus for others.
I resolve to let others be Jesus for me.
I would love to hear your ideas for resolutions. Maybe your need and longing matches another’s, bringing our community of care closer as we widen our net of love. Cheers for this New Year. Sláinte.