I’m sitting here, cuddled on the couch in my great grandmother’s quilt, staring out into the snowy world beyond. There’s always something thrilling about turning the calendar to January.
We see the social feed filled with thoughts about resolutions and whether or not they will be made. We see the end-of-year thoughts and praises and pictures. We see the age-worn smiles and the baby new faces. And we try to sum it all up—these months, these weeks, these 365 days—with a word or a phrase or a hope for the empty-paged year.
So I’m adding my little hopes and dreams for the New Year here. Nothing too fancy, too new. Just these hopes and prayers to be a little more like Jesus. I’m asking aloud, Lord, would You help me . . .
1) To replace my expectations with thanksgiving, dwelling more on what I have than on what I thought I’d have. To treat each blessing like an undeserved, unexpected present, believing that it came straight from the Father of Light and that He knew best when giving it.
2) To understand better that my Provider is Abba, Father, and to cry out to Him like the child of God I am. To have childlike faith, trusting that some things are too high to think about, too lofty to attain, and leaving them at that.
3) To be a little more lowly, a little more still, leaning in to listen better to the One whose Words mean most. To take to heart His promises and peace-giving, and to draw my strength from Him.
I know there’s nothing magical about the clock striking twelve. And not even about the first morning of the New Year, when our eyes slowly open to a Monday off work. But I so value this precious time, this grace to remember, reflect, redirect.
Thanks, Lord, for these very first days.