Hello, 2012. You are a welcome friend.
Not that 2011 was bad. We had a fantastic year. We built a house, moved in, spent a lot of time with a lot of great people. Not too shabby.
I used to play this mental game with myself – loosely based in fact. If one year was good, the next year was bound to be crappy. Fourth grade: fun. Fifth grade: nightmare. Sixth grade: enjoyable. Seventh grade: disaster. And on and on.
But I’m choosing now to be slightly more optimistic and not give in to fear. In fact, I sense some bigness on the horizon. No clue as to what it will involve, but I know it’s gonna be a great year.
And I’m choosing not to think about the indisputable fact that the biggest bignesses in life often follow the most painful pain.
We’ll just stay happy.
As I mentioned way back LAST YEAR before I completely lost my mojo and stopped writing altogether, I was drop-kicked under a bus before Christmas. The underside of a bus is a great place for self-evaluation.
Following the holiday bus massacre, the Holy Spirit descended upon me in the form of my almost-teenaged daughter and a well-deserved whack upside the head. She called me out on some hypocrisy and inconsistency, which was hard to hear, but I needed to hear it. “You always tell me to be kind and not to judge people, but you talk about people behind their backs, and you’re really rude.”
And, unfortunately, she’s right. I don’t always turn on the filter, so what’s in my head comes spewing forth from my mouth, and you know the old comparison about words and toothpaste. Once they’re out there, you can’t put it back.
So I’m going to start working on that. Welcome, new year, new beginnings.
While I’m not a big fan of resolutions (I did manage to make our bed almost every day for a year in 2009), I know my life and heart and priorities could use some rearranging, and I’m sensing the birth of a theme for 2012. Or at least for this week.
Illuminating, life-giving, breathtaking light. Light shining within and without. Perceiving light. Soaking in light. Meditating on light.
Also, I’d like to lighten the amount of bra fat and muffin top.
Yesterday I read this: you are the light of the world. It’s not an aspiration. It’s not a hope. It’s not a goal.
It’s an identity. You. Are. Light.
And a little further down, The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light, but if your eye is bad, your whole body will be full of darkness.
That verse is smack-dab in the middle of a passage about money and anxiety and provision – but I think it’s saying that what I meditate on, what I choose to see will fill me with either light or darkness. And while I love the darkness of my room at night and my comfy bed and snuggling down in the warmth and never wanting to get up – once the day breaks and I’m up and moving, I need light. I need goodness and mercy and grace.
(And coffee. Which is all of the above.)
This year, let us pursue light. Let us focus on what is good and perfect and lovely. Let us see the God inside everyone, the value, the gift.
So far, so good. My mood has improved considerably over the past two days, and I’m working on digging that darned plank of wood out of my eye. I am breathing and praying and searching for light. It does a heart and a mind and a body good.
May I interject the obvious? It’s an election year. Light might occasionally be hard to find. Light might be hiding under a great big political bushel. But I will attempt to read less Salon and Fox News and CNN and more Momastery and Big Mama. I will not read vitriolic comments on online news articles.
I will absorb goodness, and when I speak, I will hope my words – both spoken and written – will breathe life and light.
If I can achieve that, then perhaps I can avoid any further encounters with the underside of a bus. At least this week.