A Happy New Year!

We are almost finished with 2021!

This week, I’ve been looking back at things I learned, read, tried, and failed at. I’ve also been anticipating everything 2022 might hold. Even though change is not my favorite, there is a special excitement going into the new year.

I’ve been planning my Bible reading schedule, setting up my planner, and trying to organize the house from the Christmas chaos. Today the decorations will start to come down and I’ll get my kids on dusting/vacuuming duty!

Whenever I look ahead to January and beyond, I try to think back over the previous year. How did I struggle? Where did my habits falter? How can I keep from making the same mistakes again? The Bible has many passages about Israel remembering their past. They were to look back and reflect on what God had done for them, how he had shown himself and protected them. And that looking back was to give them hope and courage for how he would continue to work in the future.

Of course, we see Israel struggling with this but it’s a theme we read again and again… “Remember how God brought you out of Egypt” “Remember when God provided manna in the wilderness” “Remember when God delivered you by parting the Red Sea”….

Our moments of protection might not be so dramatic but God certainly brings us through many trials, joys, hardships, and changes. And just as Israel was reminded to look back, we need to also. With the remembering, I hope we can also evaluate what we need to adapt going into 2022. Not everything worked or went well in 2021; maybe some bad habits were fostered and good practices lost. Each of us — with prayer and not pride — needs to honestly look back and decide what to keep and what to loose from 2021.

I created a simple printable for you to download and print off as a reminder of 5 small ways to make 2022 better. These are simple suggestions but they will take effort, time, and a decision to put them into practice. If you think of other things to add, I’d love to hear! Click the button below to access the printable! And thanks for reading in 2021.

Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness! Psalm 115:1

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Christmas Joy

It's December! 

My children have been eagerly eating their way through their advent calendars and counting down the days. 

I've gotten all the shopping done and planned the baking. 

In some ways, it's easy to be joyful as Christmas approaches. All the memories and fun we just do once a year, watching my kids exclaim with excitement over decorations and lights and extra candy. Thinking about the surprises waiting, wrapped under the tree.

But there's also a lingering sadness. Another year almost gone. Missing loved ones who have passed. Watching the world celebrate Christmas but missing the real meaning. 

Is it possible for joy and sorrow to merge? Can we mourn the difficulties of the year yet still feel joy at what's around? 

These emotions are not exclusive from each other. Though opposites, we can express both feelings. Think of the first Christmas. Joy that the savior was born, sorrow that he was born to die. Joy for God's fulfilled promise, sorrow that he would be rejected. 

In a broken world, we will live with the pull between these. 

And in a way, that tension is because of us. We needed a Savior because sin couldn't be overcome by us. We sometimes sing "Love came down on Christmas day" but it was joy also. The shepherds displayed joy and excitement even though they didn't fully comprehend what that baby meant. But the reason Jesus was born was sorrowful; he needed to die in our place so we could enjoy eternal life with God.

Instead of trying to ignore one emotion and amplify the other, both can be experienced this season. Family and friends who aren't here to celebrate can be remembered and mourned while rejoicing that the birth of Jesus was a step toward death being forever conquered.

We have joy in annual traditions and looking ahead to a new year while regretting parts of the past year. 

This tension is part of life in a world tainted by sin. But it doesn't make the miracle of Christ's birth less wondrous, less important, or something to pass by. Joy and sorrow meet, in a manger and then at the cross.

Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash.

Getting Sentimental

A few weeks ago was my birthday.

I’m already sensitive and sentimental — I cry {very} easily during movies — but as I get older, things are hitting me harder, I appreciate things more, I reminisce. For some reason, in the midst of turning a year older, I thought about two people who I wish I knew better but still impact me with how I witnessed them living: my grandma {my dad’s mom} and my granddaddy {my mom’s dad}.

My Grandma Short wasn’t given to many words. My grandpa was the big talker in the family. Grandma was content to listen, laugh, and cook. If my grandpa forgot someone’s name or part of a story, she would call from the kitchen or poke her head into the living room to offer the information. She was always in the kitchen, usually baking. Pies, puddings, cookies, chocolate dipped-everything. I remember when we would visit she would be by the sink when I woke up in the morning and by the sink when I said goodnight. She didn’t do anything quickly; slow, patient, deliberate would be good ways to describe her process. I never heard her raise her voice unless she was trying to get Grandpa’s attention. But it wasn’t that she didn’t have opinions. When she didn’t approve of something — whether it was something her grandkids did or something on TV — she would shake her head or slowly shake her finger. It was enough of a punishment to know she was disappointed.

I’ve often longed for her calm approach to life. If she was worried about things, I could never tell. She also wasn’t a complainer. As she got older, her feet really bothered her. She didn’t have any — literally any — fat on the bottom of her feet so when she stood and cooked all day, even with her thick-soled shoes on, she would almost limp into a chair after dinner. It became a tradition that I would rub her feet almost nightly when we would visit. She would never complain but when I pressed a certain way, she would wince a little. She often fell asleep during these foot rubs and would apologize after.

Everything she did pointed to these two truths: she loved God and she loved her family.

My granddaddy was just as quiet. When we would visit their Tennessee farm, I remember him spending the mornings in the fields and the afternoons in his office. He taught Sunday School at their church for decades and would spend hours reading and studying every week. He always struck me as contemplative. He didn’t feel the need to fill silence, often sitting and gazing out the window even if someone else was in the room. I remember as a very talkative little girl wondering why anyone would be content to just watch the birds fly by and not comment on it.

As inclined as he was to silence, he did laugh. I remember his eyes crinkling with laughter while we watched The Three Stooges. My Me-Ma {grandma} had a running collection of sad movies where the animal dies at the end and we would regularly watch them. Granddaddy would wander into the room, see what was on the TV and say, “Y’all watching that Old Yeller again? Y’all knows how it ends, don’t ya?” and walk out chuckling. Even as he became more forgetful and slower toward the end of his life, I still remember him whistling, softly laughing when something struck him funny, and content.

Both of these people had seen hardship {Grandma’s brother died when she was a teenager and Granddaddy’s parents died when he was young} but they didn’t let difficulty define them or keep them from smiling. They both faced life with the perspective that God was in control.

I wish I would have had more opportunities to sit and ask questions and learn from them. The memories I do have are precious and going into this next year God has given, I’m making a conscience effort to not let the things around me dictate my mood or attitude. I want to find joy in simple things, serve my family well, and point others to Christ by my daily attitude.

Do you ever think what your legacy will be for those who know you? How would you like to be remembered?

Photo by James Besser on Unsplash.