A Few Thoughts on the New Year

Lots to catch you up on

I don’t have a groundbreaking New Year’s resolution that will turn things around in twelve short months or an insightful reflection that ties a neat bow on top of the past year.

I have been so caught up in how desperately we try to convince ourselves of the things to change at the start of a new year. We think to ourselves that maybe I’ll stop this or start that or finally do it or go there. All of these resolutions come flooding in at the end of December. Maybe it’s because we’ve out-rested ourselves on the couch of our childhood home, we’ve relied on snacks instead of meals and forgot what the outside feels like. We are so sick of lounging and vegging that we can’t help but crave ambition. To move and go and become and do!

But really what I want to do this year is just to take another step. A step away from what is small and toward what is bigger and brighter and more beautiful.

But what is that exactly?

I talk a lot on here about finding “beauty” in the mundane. Seeing “magic” in the corners and shadows. Awakening myself to all that is going on around me. But I’m afraid I’m being too vague with the nice-sounding words and analogies.

The goodness and the magic and the beauty is not just a refreshing conversation with a new friend or a helpful lady at the grocery store, it is encountering the tenderness of the Creator, the One who holds it all together. The One who created the world and only saw it good when both Adam and Eve were there too. He is the One who found a treasure buried in a field and gave up everything to buy it.

I am reading through the Bible in 90 days. I hope I’ll be done by the time the dogwoods are blooming and the cold gives way to afternoon warmth. I’ve read the Bible a few times now, but it feels different this year. As I read the stories I’ve known my whole life, I so closely feel the care of the same God who called Abraham to the wilderness and who gave manna to the Israelites. The One who was a friend to Joseph both in prison and in the palace.

I see His goodness when I encounter glimpses of wonder in the world. I am reminded that all He wants is for me to find my delight in Him. To savor His handiwork, to love it well, to live in it kindly, to see Him in everything.

That is the bigger and brighter and more beautiful that I’m slowly walking toward this year and the next and the next. Trusting that in my walking He will meet me with a satisfaction so sure and complete no thing could ever come close.

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I’ve always said I hate January, but in my endeavors to enjoy God’s creation I have tried noticing parts of the month that I enjoy. Like how you can see the sun and sky more clearly through the bare branches. How the wind forces you to notice your coat’s warm embrace. How the cold bites everyone’s cheeks a healthy glowy pink.

We even got some snow here last week. The buzz around the incoming flurries sent everyone into a frenzy of bundling up and buying sleds and planning a day of rest and enjoyment.

I woke to the snow pillowing on my car and roof. I watched as each snowflake landed in silence. I hung around the house all day and watched a bad movie and painted my nails and made tacos. I didn’t build a snowman or sled down a hill until my clothes were soaked and my fingers were frozen. I tried to write but couldn’t finish a sentence. I waited and wished for the words to come, but they didn’t. A friend came over when the snow had turned to slush and we talked and laughed and ate the last of my cookie dough.

It was nice and quiet and grown up.

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I’ve been noticing people in cars recently.

I probably look strange staring into the car beside me at the red light, but we miss so much of the humanity around us because of distraction.

My first instinct is usually to pick up my phone or change the song or go through my console, but I started just sitting and looking at who all is around me. And I have been shocked to see what you can learn.

First of all, people pick their noses more than anyone will ever admit. More times than I can count I have passed someone in their car with a full finger in their nostril. So far up, I didn’t even know it was possible.

Maybe when you’re in the car you don’t think that people are looking, but I’m here to tell you, they are and it’s me, I’m looking.

It makes me laugh because that feels so human in such a strange way. We are all trying our best and sometimes you just need to pick your nose.

I also think it’s interesting to try and understand the dynamic of the people in the car. Are they dating? Kissing at red lights and holding hands and looking so deeply into each other’s eyes they don’t notice the light turned green. Are they family? Screaming at each other to scoot the chair up or sitting in comfortable silence or fighting over the music choice? Are they on a call talking way too loudly about work or a recent breakup or what groceries need to be picked up?

There was one time I looked over and saw a girl looking out the window with tears rolling down her cheek. She was in the car with a boy and I wondered what she had just discovered. My imagination ran wild as I watched her wipe the tears away. It was so sad and so beautiful to see that and be reminded that we are not alone in our grief and sadness. I saw this beautiful girl, a stranger, and saw myself. But then the light turned green and we turned right.

I don’t want to forget that all around me in every car in every lane is a person who has loved and lost and hurt and missed and wanted and picked their nose. I think if I remember this more often it might make me a bit more patient.

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I’m sorry this was a scattered post. I wasn’t sure how to format all of my thoughts in a coherent way that made any sense, so I didn’t bother trying. And I’m sorry I haven’t been prompt in my posting.

I just haven’t wanted to write.

I’ve been exploring other hobbies and reading and scrolling and listening and shopping. I’m praying the words will keep coming and I hope you’ll be here to read them.