You know, when I think about 2010, my first thought is that I really hope the door doesn't hit its arse on the way out. If I had a choice, I would roll this year back to about May and do it all over again, and avoid some of the tragedy that's shaped this year. But then I started to think a little more broadly, and the truth is, it hasn't been half bad.
-Jared & I spent most of the year in jobs we genuinely liked.
-We willingly and excitedly left those jobs to do what we really want to do - go to seminary.
-In PA, we've made some wonderful new friends, reconnected with one old one (yay Seefa!) and started making a home here.
-Our first semester was difficult, but ended rockin'ly, and thoroughly confirmed both of our callings.
-My little yarn business closed its first year well into the black, and is getting ready to expand.
-I have been off meds all year, and considering what this year has had in it, that's pretty remarkable.
There were plenty of hardships, but they were largely expected. We moved twice, and more or less completely changed lives when we moved here. There were some intensely busy times that were testing for both of us. But we knew it was coming.
It's the unexpectedly awful that seems to have colored this whole year for me. It's changed how everything has looked and felt; it's changed what everything means. It's changed us in ways we're nowhere near done figuring out. We lost two babies to early-term miscarriages in June and August. Both unexpected but very much wanted, and no explanation.
I could talk about how these losses changed me for the better. How they woke me up to how complacent I had become. How these little lives had a purpose. And it would all be true. But it would all be too soon. I've learned a lot about grief this year, and how to deal with grieving people. The most basic thing I've learned is that, when someone is in the thick of grieving, no amount of meaning in trial, hope for the future, or anything else will be comforting. The only thing that would make it better is if it hadn't happened. Period. Full stop. So when you are overwhelmed by the need to fix something, to make it better, just don't. Just give them a big hug and let them talk if they want to - let them curse at God, and don't try to answer their Big Questions. Except maybe with this: Jesus was a man of sorrows too. The cross is about the only truth I still find compelling.
That's why I look back at 2010 and just want to undo it. I'm still at that point when all I want to do is go back and have the bad things not happen. I'm sure in a few more years I'll have a lot more perspective, and I'll be grateful for the ways God has used tragedy to make me more into the person both He and I want me to be. I'm just not there yet.
I'm not sure what to expect in 2011. But I do have a few goals. They are qualitative rather than quantitative - I don't do diets or numbers or stuff like that - but they mostly revolve around getting a little more outward-turned. I tend to just sink into an unconscious mode of passive self-gratification that's more like a stupor than an actual life - that's what this summer really started to shake me out of. One can be very contentedly half-alive, and I was almost to the point that such an existence was really enough for me.
So my goals are simple. Talk less, listen more. Worry less, pray more. Knit for myself less, knit for others more. Because probably the best way to give meaning to life's crap is to let it wake me up.
Friday, December 31, 2010
A Brand New Year!!
At my new job in Baltimore, I work with a young woman with disabilities who has a very hard life at home. She dreads the weekends, when she has to spend two days sitting in her house with nothing to do. She spends those two days in solitude, waiting for Monday. Finally, it arrives.
"Good morning, K.," I offer weakly as she prances into the classroom, oh-so-early. "How are you?"
"Quintuple awesome!" she responds, staring at me intently. "It's a Brand New Week!"
As often as it's happened, it still gives me pause. I kind of hate my job here (or at least, I extremely dislike certain parts of it), and Mondays are difficult for me. I drag myself out of my warm little bed, traipse through the frigid, dirty, city air, and arrive at the school building with resentment and bitterness lurking around the corners of my heart. Then K. arrives, full of life and enthusiasm, and jerks me awake, reminding me that today, and the next day, and the next, are all pieces of a Brand New Week. An unknown, unformed Week, which can be shaped either by my resentment, or by my gratitude.
So now it is December 31st. As I reflect on the year behind me, and anticipate the year to come, it occurs to me that this is a Brand New Year. Formless, empty, full of possibility, ripe for living, loving, growing, and being.
So, friends, tell me (and please note that this is a question, and not a rhetorical device): what are you going to do with your Brand New Year?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)