I‘m sitting here watching my third episode of Vanderpump Rules in a row because for the first time since September I don’t have to worry about theologically reflecting and submitting an essay on anything.
In fact, I refuse to, because if I were to start theologically reflecting at this moment it would be re: Botox and whether or not a minister can get that shit, ’cause I want it but not if it’s like, career altering, you know?
It seems fitting that over the course of this year I’ve only published 15 blogs. This entire year has been an unintentional exercise in standing still and perhaps even moving backwards for me. Not in a bad way, although I spent a solid 6 hours last week thinking so — but in a way that has allowed me to expand exponentially in other unknown areas of my self. You can only do so much at once and apparently there were more important things happening inside me than what my own eyes could see.
I was listening to a message yesterday reflecting on progress and the pastor mentioned that sometimes the only possible way you can see how far you’ve come is to recognize where you stand and where you started and — in many cases — make the choice to “close the loop.” That is, decide you are no longer in the same story you started but are, in fact, in the sequel.
2015 was such a bombshell year for me. I quit my job, got engaged, got a dream gig, got married, moved into my dream apartment & fed my soul in as many different ways as I possibly could. 2016 just kind of . . . stopped. I haven’t even changed my hair since this time last year. Two thousand and sixteen was so strange my husband had to ask me if he needed to be offended by it.
He doesn’t. It’s not him, it’s me.
My heart has spent this past year exploding — with joy, with sorrow, with uncertainty and absolute conviction, with passion, with potential, with grace — and I’ve allowed myself to let go of so much (people, places, expectations, resentment, shame). It’s just that those things aren’t what show up on paper when you do a year-end inventory. What shows up are a whole lot of un-checked boxes, because you can’t change yourself all at once and shadow work is exhausting.
The thing about allowing myself to do all of that work this past year, however, is that now I’m ready. There aren’t any more questions that need to be asked about the why it’s just addressing the how. And really, all a lady ever has to do is put on some Beyoncé & a good pair of shoes. The work oozes out of you after that.
Now, this isn’t actually intended to be a year-end post. There are so many of those out there and while love them, the internet doesn’t need another one before Christmas arrives. TRUTH: this is actually an anti-year-end post.
I caught myself last week saying the words: “I need it to be 2017 right now. Literally this year is so over for me.”
Obviously, yes, I hated myself for sounding that whiny too. I also hated myself for being a hypocrite. If there is one thing and one thing only that my faith assures me of, each and every single day, it’s that I am being made new every moment. It doesn’t take the clock switching from 11:59 on December 31st to 12am on January 1st.
Yes, I’m all about the sequins and ceremony and you better believe I have a bonfire burn for all of my diaries planned somewhere in the mountains, but that’s beside the point. The point is, something is seriously wrong if we just start wishing time away so we can start again. It’s tragic and it’s false. We are raised to new life each and every time we decide to be.
Decide to be.
What do you want to accomplish before January? What small granule are you going to add to the top of the mountain that is the year behind you? Can you make it a cherry? Can you make it a black-heart emoji? Can you make it whatever you like to top your sundaes with? We have an opportunity every day to make ourselves and the world a little bit better. James Altucher calls it the 1% rule. I call it waking the f up.
This is our life. Right here. Right now. So maybe I didn’t change my hair in 2016, I don’t have to wait until January to do it.
OK. Yes I do, because I’m broke. But you know what I mean.