New Years are always such a good reminder of a fresh start. A moment to dream. To ponder what has been and how you would do differently given the opportunity.
And I always start a new year with worthy goals and best of intentions. I’m going to read all the books, cook all the things, became a master at managing my home. I’ll be more peaceful or joyful or kind or gentle. I promise to myself that I will be my best self. Maybe I’ll eat a dinosaur. Maybe not. But I usually am the best version of me, for those first 6 hours I am asleep. And then I wake up to needy kids and I pray for grace. And I fail. Oops.
But this year has me starting in a very different, much more raw place. 2017 was rough. Maybe not personally, but there were some very real tragedies in my family. A house fire that consumed everything, a dear family friend drowned, my brother moved away, then my family moved. Oh, and a major hurricane hit our city..:maybe you heard of Harvey. And while he didn’t bother my family too much, just isolated us from the world for a couple days, my city was devastated. But there was hope mixed in it all. Because the Lord is faithful. Always.
Two days ago I “probably” blew out my knee for the THIRD time. Awaiting doctors appointments to confirm (because family docs get to take New Years off). Just before Christmas I had returned to coaching gymnastics after a two year break to be mommy. The future of that is uncertain. Today my husband got a call that a space opened up for an internship on a feature film in San Antonio. An opportunity we discussed months ago, too good to pass. And for me there was no hesitation…you have to go. His bags are packed. He leaves tonight for two weeks. When he gets back, he starts school immediately.
So I’m ringing in the new year alone. With kind of a crap shoot of circumstances to stare down. But there is hope. Because the Lord is faithful. Always. This is not the clean fresh start I would like to be looking at in the morning; I know my kids will wake up needy. And “hun-gee”. And grumpy. And I will wake up in pain. And hungry. And, truth be told, probably grumpy. Because I am not a morning person. And I. Will. Fail…Oops.
But I’m making myself this promise for this new year. I resolve to love each day in the knowledge that the Lord is faithful, always. And his mercy is new every morning. So maybe 2018 isn’t a fresh start. It’s more of tripping all over my stuff and I fall headlong into the arms of one who holds my days. And I can deal with that.