2018: My Year of Refreshing

In a moment of candid honesty, I would confess that I have a love-hate relationship with New Year's Day.

I love the image of a blank slate, dusty from lessons learned, but empty and ready for the learning still to come. I always dread, however, the reflection upon the past year's achievements...or lack thereof.

From a Christian perspective, I am increasingly frustrated by the overuse of Isaiah 43:19 in reference to the New Year, as captured in the image below:

I'll let you in on a secret: God doesn't celebrate New Years. He doesn't wait for the calendar's permission to address you or your situation. How do I know? I read the verse below:

Imagine, if you will, what it's like to live in Heaven's time zone. The 2,018 calendar years marked off by mankind are little more than 2 days in Heaven. At the same time, every single day is like a thousand years to Him. If you are a parent, or have ever experienced a challenging day in the workplace, you understand the concept of the day that never seems to end.

So what about the days you realize you spent a whole year missing the mark? Resolutions weren't kept, goals weren't achieved, or perhaps it even seems you moved backward. What about those days? And the ones that seem to last forever, and for all the wrong reasons?

Sweet friend, God made provision for those days. Just because He lives outside of time as we know it doesn't mean He has no idea how this works: He designed the system! We break the system down into days, hours, minutes and seconds - but do we forget that seasons are part of the plan, too? Consider Acts 3:19, where we are told that times of refreshing will come from the presence of the Lord. (Some versions of the Bible translate the word "times" as "seasons"  - I love the imagery that word paints!)

This year, as I look at the 365 days just passed and the 365 days ahead, the word for my New Year was nearly audible to me: Refresh. Last year was good, and I learned a lot from living by the word "defined." I believe I am on the right track, but I need a season of refeshing before I set new goals.

As someone who works with computers daily, perhaps I can draw an analogy from them. When you press the "Reset" button on a computer, all programs will shut down and you will need to restart each one. I would consider our cross-country move five years ago as a "reset." which required us to restart everything: our home, our jobs, and even our friendships.

Pressing the "Refresh" button on a computer does something completely different: it simply reloads the program you are working in without whatever factor was slowing you down. A season of refreshing, then, as applied to life, means you are doing good work, but you have some things to get rid of. This ties in beautifully with Hebrews 12:1, which instructs us to "throw off everything that hinders..."

For me, some things that hinder include anger, guilt, and low self-esteem. The low self-esteem is directly connected to my troubles with weight management, which I have begun to correct. The guilt and anger are tied to what seems like a whole other lifetime, but they directly influence my weight management when I eat based on emotion. So although I'm doing the work, I need to "refresh" and throw away the issues that slow down the finished work. 

I will take this season to be made cool and clean. I will first be emptied of things that hinder, then filled with peace and purpose. I will practice seeing each day as fresh and every moment as re-fresh. Refresh. Re-fresh. Fresh, and fresh again. As many times as required, until the work is once again moving forward without hesitation. 

I do not expect this season to be easy. I will put in the work because I am excited to see the results. I look forward to feeling lighter, both physically and emotionally. Because life is a gift, and the Giver is good. 

"I Have Nobody!"

Our youngest child has been described by his siblings as "spoiled", due largely in part to the age difference of 12 years between himself and the next youngest. I suppose the loss of his sister to adoption has played a tremendous role as well; we have learned the value of every moment together. So it is that I often find myself in my "baby" boy's room at night.

Bedtime is for reading, tickling, talking about his day and sometimes singing. It's for shadow puppets and knock-knock jokes and lots and lots of cuddles. It's for building pillow-and-blanket forts and for strip-dancing and for wrestling with the puppy. Bedtime is for anything except sleep ... until it's time for sleep. When my skin is soaked with sweat from the little person seemingly Velcro'd to me, I sneak out for one last cup of coffee and some reading before sneaking quietly to my own bed.

"Momma!" came the cry, in the middle of the night.

"What?!" I responded, haggard from a particularly challenging day.

Silence. Then muffled cries.

Haphazardly falling out of bed, I grabbed my favorite body pillow for the trip. I shuffled through the hallway to his bedroom, and was shocked to hear how distressed my boy actually was. "What do you need?" I asked him.

"Momma," he sobbed, "I have no one!"

Ouch. I could physically feel my heart breaking. "Yes, you do, buddy - you have me! I'm here."

And for the first time in all my life I understood how Scripture could compare God to a mother. How many times have we tearfully screamed "I have nobody!" even as He came to comfort us? There is never a time I will abandon my boy - though he is truly no longer a baby. How much more, then, does God long to shelter us in His heart, protected under His loving arms?

You are never alone. You are seen, known, and beloved of God. And if you need a "Jesus with skin on", you've got me. Let's sip a coffee together ... even if only virtually. Prayers that are whispered on Earth still echo in Heaven. Leave your name in the comments if you need me to send up a whisper for you today. <3

THE PERFECT STORM

We're experiencing the perfect storm on the prairies today. A travel-advisory, slippery, white-out conditions, old-fashioned blizzard. And if I were honest, I would tell you this has been the most soul-soothing day I have experienced in some time.

I grew up in the back woods of Canada's east coast. Driving winding country roads, hiking forest trails, swimming at the base of waterfalls and drinking from babbling brooks were integral parts of my childhood and teen years.

Early in my marriage and motherhood years, I moved to another province. Although time in the forest was less available, I spent more time on the shores of the ocean. The sound of the waves, the smell of the salt, the feel of warm sand, and the sight of sunrise/sunset over the endless motion of the waves? Well, this became my "thing" - my rescue when my soul craved peace and healing.

Moving to the prairies was a huge adventure, and at first was the change we needed. Over the past year, though, I have begun to struggle. There is neither forest nor ocean, and my line of work means summer is my busy season. There is no time for the soul food offered by being in nature. I'm drowning in thin air.

Until yesterday. In the middle of winter. In the middle of a closed-door, boardroom training session. There was a knock, news of being sent home early -  a blizzard making roada a safety risk. A nerve-wracking drive to a neighboring town to pick up our youngest from school. And then?

Wind. Glorious, rushing wind! The kind of wind that doesn't gust in quick bursts - rather, it howls up the length of the street. From any seat or bed on the north side of our home, an incoming wind "gust" sounds exactly like an incomimg tidal wave. I can close my eyes in our ocean-themed, northside bedroom and imagine I'm riding a wave. So soothing!

It has been a haunting 10 days of memories from the past. Our family has been contacted by people whose very names add an element of stress to any conversation. Some of it may be an answer to prayer: there are always hard roads to walk between hurt and healing. Knowing the wind and water have always been a salve to my soul, the Maker has sent me a perfect storm.

I have spent today reading, sipping coffee and snuggling my littlest person. Outside the window, the town is basically a sea of white. A windswept sea. A storm designed for me. I am so blessed!