So. 2018 is here. Finally… a new year. According to the Gregorian calendar, anyway. If you go back to Leviticus 23:23-25, though, you’ll find it used to (suggestion: think on that…) start in what we now call September (a source to start your own study on the history of calendar New Years: http://bit.ly/2E6NhVG). So, really, what is the value in a “new” year? Did the events of the previous one disappear? Not hardly. Are we all gifted a renewed universal peace of love and acceptance? Nope. What we are given, though, is a way to compartmentalize events that happened on a continuum of time, but in a way that we don’t have to do it alone. The whole world (well, our little slice of it that we imagine to be “the whole world,” anyway) supports that compartmentalization so strongly that we can actually turn the proverbial page to a new chapter. Reality is a bit more grim than that, but it’s that societal support that helps us use that compartmentalization as an excuse to let ourselves let go–to relax and ease up from the pain and long-suffering. Because, really, no one wants to feel pain and hurt, and any outstretched hand offering an excuse (even if it will be short-lived), to ease up, breathe in, and remember that we’re still standing, will be appreciated and welcomed. So, we accept our New Year, and we do it at the time everyone else celebrates it, because it’s always easier to convince yourself it’s real when everyone on stage plays their part well.
Life doesn’t always seem to play fair, and (whether or not they completely crumble from the strike) even the strongest of walls can be hit so hard they are left with scars. Retrospection really is rosy, though, and if you reflect long enough, you can usually find one or two pieces that make it all fit together again. To some extent or another, anyway.
2017 was my “rest and restore” year. The seventh year we’ve been on the farm, and, thus, the year we rested the land. Good thing, too, because circumstances had us away (emotionally… mentally… physically…) often enough that if the rest hadn’t been planned, it still would have taken place. So, there’s one piece of crumbled wall that uncovers a hidden plan if you care to look for it. Still, had I been able to imagine what the year had in store, I don’t think I could have borne the weight, knowing how the sky would crumble and I would be helpless to stop it. Any of it.
The point here is that, symbolic, imagined, self-allowed, or legitimate end cap on a library shelf full of completed or partially read books, we are all moving into a new calendar year. For me, I’m leaving a year of rest behind, and I’m looking ahead to the future. The fad this year is to set a “word” to represent the upcoming year, rather than creating a list of resolutions. So, my word is going to be “faith,” because that’s what I need to continue in any direction. Faith in my Father alone. I can believe in my friends, and I can support them, but there is only one place I’m putting my faith, and on that, I’m undivided. As for my old-fashioned (and overly broad) resolutions, they are simple:
- Be disciplined in faith, home, and family.
- Be accountable.
- Be reachable.
- Learn to just be.
What about you? When do you celebrate the New Year (or do you not), and if you do, what word will represent 2018 for you? Do you have resolutions?
homepage photo credit: wuestenigel New Year flatlay. 2018 written with flour an and other seasonal ingredients via photopin (license)