“Well I think you did a great job,” he said.
“No offense, but it doesn’t matter what you think. It matters what I think.” I responded.
“It matters what God thinks.” He replied.
“Well, yeah, but it matters what I think God thinks.” I said getting irritated.
We were in bed before 10pm on New Year’s Eve 2014. I’d spent the hour before staring at the flames in the fireplace contemplating the year gone by. Our New Year’s plans had fallen through, and though we had others we could’ve accepted last minute (I know, I know, we’re so popular…), we decided to enjoy a night in. After trying to decide if we should watch adocumentary or play Scrabble (beware, party animals live here), we, instead, got lost talking about our goals for 2015.
Goals are good; helpful; motivating.
I’ve always been a goal-setter, largely due to my Dad’s wise and helpful teaching.
For me, goals for the future are also a bit of a Pandora’s box. As soon as I lift the lid a little, thoughts of the how-I-did-it-befores and what-if-I-need-to-changes come pouring over the sides.
With the goal-setting comes a looking-back-upon that tends to get me a bit choked up. New Year’s Eve the litmus test for the past 365 days.
How can another year have gone by already?
This is the last time that I will kiss the McBabies goodnight in 2014.
This is the last time that I will kiss the McBabies goodnight in 2014 when they are 7, 5, and 2.
This is the last time that I will kiss the McBabies goodnight in 2014 when they are 7, 5, and 2 and the first time that I am thinking about it.
This goes on for quite some time and borders on needing a calculator to keep the number of first and last times straight.
Did I do all that I could have with 2014? All that I should have?
Are we even close to flying cars and hover boards? Squirrel…
DID I SUCCEED?
This is what it all comes down to, really. I fear that perhaps I did not and the reality that I can’t go back, can’t get this year back, feels too heavy for me.
I’m not exactly sure where all this comes from, but while the rest of the nation seems to be toasting to a clean slate, watching an apple drop and blowing on a paper kazoo streamer thingy, I’m, once again, too melancholy to embrace moving forward.
Am I the only one? Surely SOMEONE else gets slumpy and down on NYE.
I have so much to be grateful for. I have my health, my family, my friends. I have a village. On paper, this was my “best” year when it comes to my career. I seek love and accept grace. What more could I possibly want?
Freedom. To. Move. Forward.
As nice as a clean slate and a new year sound, I want the stamp of approval for the one gone by. I don’t feel as if I can have one without the other.
When I go to my shelf of journals, almost all of them start the same. They all have a chunk of pages starting out in early January. It’s my “low” time. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure the weather doesn’t help. Or the carb-loading I did the month of December making my daggone pants so tight. It’s something else though that keeps me journaling from Jan 2nd-ish to the end of the month.
This post doesn’t wrap up in a tidy way. I have shared plenty of redemptive stories. Naturally, there is some pride in sharing the looking back. I don’t have that. Right now, I’m addressing you right where I am – in 2014 and a half. One proverbial foot in each year. I’m praying to replace fear with freedom… for me and anyone like me.