Metaphorically speaking, I’d like to classify myself as the cannon-ball type–The one who sprints to the edge of the dock, tucks, and hits in the water without hesitation (and on a hot summer day, I am). The truth is I wear three layers every day for about six months of the year. I am rarely as warm as I’d like to be, thus, the toe-dipping. As though dipping my toe into warm or tepid water is going to change the plan once I’ve donned my swimsuit—it’s only a matter of time before I’m in. But man, there’s nothing like the pep talks that happen before hopping into a cold lake or pool, and then of course, summoning the courage to actually do it.
To inspire me, at the beginning of 2018 I used a word generator in which one can have a word for the new year selected for them by lottery. I got re-vamp (am I even old enough to re-vamp?!). I’m not really sure what this means but it didn’t resonate. I am as shocked as you that a computer-generated word for my life-direction wasn’t a great fit.
So, I returned to my own tried and true tendency to measure a New Year by its fresh, first weeks. I recognize the absurdity of it. You might compare it to dipping your toe in the pool before jumping in—is it warm enough? Will I want to stay in for a while? I’ll get used to it, right?
To be honest, I’m dipping my toe into 2018 and I’m not sure it’s ‘warm’ enough.
That probably sounds more dramatic than I intend. Truthfully we had a lovely and long Christmas season with family in town from both sides. We hosted, were hosted, feasted, visited, headed out of town and have landed back in the mix of everyday life, just like most of you probably.
We came home to conversations, caring bridge notes, news of death, NICU updates, and prayer requests that have been searing. I’ve listened to the news, softly or by myself in hopes that the innocence in our car can remain untainted just a little longer.
God, why?
Still reeling about this string of events last week, I was asked a question around the theme of hope. With so much reason for despair—what might get a fruitful conversation brewing on the subject of hope at the beginning of a new year? I sat around a table with inspirational folks whom I am privileged to call friends. Truth be told, many of us were feeling a strong pull toward despair as our wheels got spinning. So we just started tossing out questions:
What/who gives you hope?
As people of faith, how does our response to despair differ from that of the world?
What keeps you from despair?
What blatant, purposeful thing are you doing to remain hopeful in this life?
And there it was—maybe not ‘a word’ but a sentiment I could lean into at the shaking start of a fledgling year.
What I can feel my own heart burning for, are causes to root for, people who inspire, circumstances that surprise me—even in/particularly in, myself. I don’t know what this means or quite how it will look.
Maybe you’re still looking for a mid-January resolution, maybe you aren’t. But maybe, just maybe, you’re willing to try something hopeful, blatant–irrational, even if it’s just once. Because I suspect that you, too, sense in your bones that we are made for more and that our choices matter far more to those who surround us than we have been instructed to, or willing to believe. When the world’s pain is a lot to carry, it’s important for us to feel it; almost as important as our response to that hurt. It is our collective response that makes manifest the hope we profess.
And for me at least, it’s good to be reminded of that–particularly at the onset of a new year.
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“But let us not put our sights too high. We do not have to be saviours of the world! We are simply human beings, enfolded in weakness and in hope, called together to change our world one heart at a time.”
— Becoming Human