A Pyre
This year I sit here looking back and there are lots of things I've seen and learned. Some have renewed my hope for humanity, and others that just remind me how broken this world is. I've had COVID a second time. I've had to face some fears and do things far out of my comfort zone. I've learned that anger is really grieving and the pain of grief is valid; to speak up when I'm hurting and set boundaries to protect my heart. I've learned to express my needs and desires. I've learned that poking the bear doesn't mean I'm going to be eaten alive. I've learned to hold people accountable, and give more grace for circumstances I've walked through. I've learned that true friends will pick you up and hold space while you heal. I've learned that the most physically distant can be the closest, most intimate of friendships.
I've grown. I've aged. My body doesn't function like it did, even a few years ago. I'm learning that my heart really does matter and in this world things aren't always as they are seen: it can be heartbreaking or it can be life giving, and at times both.
Tonight, I will head to a bonfire and on that pyre I will throw slips of paper on which are written the things I am leaving behind in 2022 and surrendering to the only One who can bear it: Jesus. See, tomorrow morning isn't just a new morning or a new year, it is a new beginning. No matter what lies ahead.