We keep talking about what we’ll do for New Year’s Eve, and this morning I woke up and it was already here.
What will we do for this new year celebration?
The boys will go to bed like normal, because their own mother can hardly make it to midnight any night of the year– but tonight, I’ll certainly try.
To be honest, the New Year’s celebration is a bit odd to me, because my year starts over when the leaves change from green to popping orange and rose red and school bus yellow.
And then my resolutions come with Christmas, with each day of Advent, with every moment of reflection.
I went on a thirty day Advent journey through December, and when it ended, I felt a little lost.
We’re back in town, in our own little apartment, and we’re gutting and cleaning like it’s spring.
So what’s new for the new year?
It seems I’m already doing some work– I think we always are, even if we don’t understand it fully.
I’m trying to put salve on my untended to places,
trying to put promises back where despair had leaked in to ruin everything.
I’m trying to put peace and expectation where fear tangles up dreams.
And yes, we are joining that gym for more exercise,
and yes, we are looking ahead for our boys– which bunkbed they might need, what their relationship will be like a year or two from now,
these two brothers who wrestle and play and fight like there’s no tomorrow.
Where are your untended to places?
What salve have you taken off the shelf, wiped the dust from,
chosen to let you live a little more in the new year?
Are you exercising to heal your exhaustion?
Are you getting quiet to heal your heart’s loudness?
Are you walking outside more to heal your loss of wonder?
Are you looking people in the eye to heal your loneliness?
Are you simply breathing to heal your fear?
Whatever your salve may be,
whatever healing it brings,
let it be good.
Let it be full and
bright
and
unrelenting.
And that just might
make for a very
happy new year,
friends.
Happy New Year, indeed.