I survived the holidays. I didn’t want it all to feel so perfunctory, but it did and as soon as it was over I breathed a big sigh of relief. The day after Christmas, I took down the tree and packed away all the decorations. I am ready for a new year.
I am always plaguing myself with resolutions, big plans to be a little bit more and a little bit better every single day. The beginning of a new year feels no different. I want to be a little bit more and a little bit better this year too. But that’s not to say that 2012 doesn’t feel special. At 29, and almost 30, another year feels like a gift.
For nearly half this year, I have had to remind myself to breathe far too often. In recent weeks I have been stumbling through days, anchored only by my constant plea: Lord, Make Me An Instrument Of Thy Peace. These words, my late night lullaby, my courtroom prayer, my eternal entreaty, are of course all my wishes and hopes for 2012.
Tomorrow, and in all the days that follow, I want to be grateful. I want to be patient with all the unanswered questions and I want to trust the answers when they come. I want to be more understanding of faults, my own and other’s. I want to forgive, every single day. I want to listen more. I want to feel okay being different, being wrong sometimes, being alone, being me. I want to be more brave, more willing to trust my intuition. I want to let go of the things I carry and I want to fill the space with love. I want to find more ways to give. This year, Lord, make me an instrument of thy peace.
I’m lucky, and I know it. I’m blessed, and I vow always to remember that. It’s going to be a Happy New Year. As I close the door on 2011 tonight along with everybody else, I am going to say it and mean it too.