I Want to Live in the Moment
I don’t do New Years’ resolutions. I never have.
It’s not that I don’t see a value in new seasons. I understand that sometimes you need to mark a moment and say, “things are going to be different from now on.” I just don’t like to do that on January 1st. It’s probably a deeply ingrained internal coding about not wanting to follow the crowd or jump on the bandwagon (what is a bandwagon anyway?). I’m sure there are some Enneagram nerds out there who can tell me the reason I’m so opposed to making resolutions just because everyone else is.
But I have been thinking a bit about 2018. I was on 156 different airplanes and spent the night in 164 beds other than my own. Those were both records for me. But don’t feel sorry for me—I love the work I get to do helping leadership teams in organizations and churches. And Faith has a dog who follows her everywhere—so she’s fine.
We helped our daughter, Megan, get settled in her new life in Indiana. We sent the last college payment for Hunter (three down, one to go). We walked away from our van after 275,000 miles and 17-years. I published a book and did a couple dozen radio interviews across the country to promote it.
Other things were more momentous. As a person not normally in touch with my feelings (just ask me “how I feel” about something, and I’ll usually give you a look like I have no idea what you are talking about), last year I embraced some emotional highs and lows.
In January, I celebrated with my sister as she got remarried—five years after her first husband died a horrifically slow death from ALS. Every wedding is a celebration, but having walked with Dena through those years of pain and grief made the wedding especially emotional and joy-filled. I am so happy for her and her new life with Tom.
I never would have guessed we would bury my dad in 2018. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him—his gregarious laugh, his knack for finding the positive in everything, his perspective and wisdom never imposed but always available, his friendship, our conversations during an all-day house project. I still can’t imagine this world without him in my life—even though I know it is my reality.
If that all happened in 2018, I can’t even imagine what 2019 might hold. I’m sure there will be some celebrations. I’m guessing there will also be some pain.
For me, as 2019 begins, I want to hold people tight. I want to live in the moment with the people I love. If someone close to me dies this year, I want to be able to say I have no regrets. I want to get better every day loving others well. I want to stand up for those who are bullied or marginalized or abused. I want to think before I speak. I want to assume the best of others.
Those might sound a lot like resolutions—I want to think they are a way of life. Or could be someday. It’s a journey.
This year that journey is called 2019.