Dear 2012, 

I keep hitting "2010" when I try to type your name, but please don't be offended. By now, you should know that I'm bad with names, and you should also know that I'll probably forget yours until March. OK fine, maybe even June. Also, I know it’s a few days in, but I’m not one to be overly sentimental about dates and such.  

Your predecessor, 2011, left some marks on me. It was somewhat of a struggle. But on my way down from New York, where I had gone to visit my parents, I heard something interesting on the radio. It brought back a flood of memories and ideas on not only how I want to approach you, but how I want to remember what has passed. 

The program was about happiness, and the attainment of it. It was a comprised of a multifaith panel of four people: the Dalai Lama (the 14^th), the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church in the US (Dr. Katherine Schori), Chief Rabbi of Great Britain (Lord Jonathan Sacks), and an eminent Muslim scholar (Dr. Seyyed Nasr).

Some ideas they brought out targeted the response to suffering and tragedy. I appreciated the words of the Dalai Lama: “..when we face some sort of sad thing, if you look very closely and it looks unbearable, [sic] look from distance. There’s not that much that’s unbearable.”

And then Rabbi Sacks: “The definition of a Jew, Israel, is as it says in Genesis 34, one who struggles, wrestles, with God and with humanity and prevails. And Jacob says something very profound to the Angel. He says, “I will not let you go until you bless me.” And that is how I feel about suffering. When something bad happens, I will not let go of that bad thing until I have discovered the blessing that lies within it.”

This reminds me of a discipline I used to have. A phrase I used to moderate myself. I called it “embracing my suffering.” I distinctly remember teaching myself what it meant to “press against the blade.” Because I believed that it was this blade that would cut away at all the ugliness inside. I became comfortable addressing my faults and allowing God to iron them out. Trials and even grumpiness was welcomed as a means to find the roots and tease them out. Perhaps I’ve lost that view for a while.

So, 2012, I will come at you with the burdens I’ve embraced from 2011. From letting the trials and thrills of the past year help me to approach you a better, more renewed person. I will not let 2011 go without a blessing.

I also want to remind myself that there is nothing that cannot be overcome. No fault in character that cannot be laid at the feet of Jesus and eradicated. No trial that is too large. Nothing so precious as not to give in service and love to God and the dreams He has given me. That whatever comes my way from you, I will not approach with sullenness or discontent, but with a willing heart. I want to remember what it is to grow in grace.

I named your predecessor “The Year of Yes.” I lost that concept about midway through, but it turns out that it was aptly named. It was meant to be a year of saying "yes" to calls of ministry. But it was that and much more. I found myself saying “yes” to letting God share my fries. I said “yes” to the question of if I would be ok with the fact that some questions may never be answered in this lifetime. I said “yes” to risks and leaps of faith and love.

I will not name you. No, you will not be the Year of Pressing Into the Blade. I will allow you to be free to do the work you will do in my life without a lens through which I will be observing it. But in my heart, I want you to see me in a closer walk with the One I love most. I want you to see me in closer and deeper devotion to Him and His work. I want you to see me loving without dissimulation and discretion, without respect of status, history, or even character. I want you to see me pursuing knowledge and faith, and deepening in my devotions to God and to the ones I love. 

A friend of mine wrote about how resolutions should be reaffirmations of our priorities. The preceding is a reaffirmation of my priorities. I want to remember them. 

Thanks for an excuse to wax eloquent and a chance to make changes.

Love,
One Cow on One of the Thousand Hills 

[Comments disabled. Please comment on post below or message if you have something to say to me. Should you have an addendum that you would like to address to 2012, do it on your own blog. :) ]

So about the depression food I blogged about in my last entry...  

I was wrong! 

I had made a bunch of delicious experimental popovers and was sure that I had to throw them out and was freezing them in vain. But guess what I'm chewing on now! Yup. A re-warmed popover. And you know what? It's still crispy on the outside and chewy on the inside. Although the chewiness is a little more prominent than it was before, but I think I might like it that way. 

Today, someone sent me a pot of poinsettias.  They were beautiful. They were in a sturdy reusable shopping bag and there was a little handwritten note attached to it on a small index card folded over itself. It was from the father of one of my graduates. And also inside the bag was a little cardboard box filled with little snacks that you would pack for your "I miss you while you're in college" daughter. Little snack bags of Cheetos (my favorite!), peanuts, some Fritos, and a little ramen packet. I didn't care that it was chicken flavored. I broke down and cried. 

I must've had a lot of pent up tears inside, because let me tell you, lo! it was like the floodgates opened. I wept. 

I wept about the thought that someone out there cared about me. That as much as I was pouring myself out and caring for these kids, that someone also thought to care about me. I wept at the feeling of being a child again, and the feelings of innocence and hope it used to carry that came rushing back. I wept at the idea that maybe, must maybe, this world wasn't such an alienating place and that I could stick my feet out and be taken care of. I wept at all the stress and pain I've been through the past few months and how the past few days have been a balm of Gilead for me. I wept at the fact that I could finally love my kids and love my job again, and that it wasn't all in vain, and that I am making a difference...  

This crying session didn't last the 3 minutes it usually does. And I let myself do it. Thanking God for preserving me, as He always does. For protecting me and taking care of me better than anyone ever could, and better than I've attempted to do for myself. There's a lot in this world I have yet to learn, and a lot of things I'll continue to be wrong about. But with God within me, and beside me, and over me, what have I to fear? What will separate me from the love of God?

My heart can only respond in gratitude and utter humility. Because I did nothing to deserve it, and I had nothing to offer or promote it.

Funny how little gestures can impact a life, eh?

Do something nice for a teacher who impacted your life. I'm telling you, it's what we live for.

 <insert gratuitous picture of a baby crying>