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We’ve reached that time of year where I’m starting to reflect on the last 11 months and look ahead toward the flipping of the page to yet another year. I know the next seven weeks will fly by in a blur of birthdays and holiday parties, family gatherings, friendsgivings, gift wrapping and more.
You know. In addition to everyday life and work. If I’m not careful, I know I’ll lose the plot. I’ll find myself answering, “How are you?” with “BUSY” as if it was a personality trait. Watching the days unspool in front me like a ribbon dropped on the floor.
My word for 2024 is cultivate. On January first, I posited that cultivate feels gentle, connected, attentive, and full of intention. I suggested that it required patience, slowness and space.
So before this year becomes next year, I want to take a moment to cultivate my soul through thankfulness. A moment to be still. To steep in 2024. To be grounded and present in this very moment.
This 73º November afternoon. With the sun shinning into my hair and warming my shoulders. I want to be intentional and slow. I want to feel like 2024 is, in fact, winding down not spiraling out of control.
Thankful for the joy I find inside the cracks of my day. Not the joy that comes from job promotions and getting what I wished for. But the joy that bubbles up inside my daughter’s laugh. The joy that explodes like a firecracker out of my son’s body. The joy that settles into my bones and releases the tension in my shoulders when my husband comes home in the evening. The quiet, everyday joy that is heartbreakingly easy to miss.
Thankful for the ways I have broken and expanded this year. For the love and the heartbreak I have stumbled upon. For the highs and lows that remind me I am alive. Thankful for the burning sense of justice that boils just beneath my skin.
Thankful for spontaneous trips to the mountains and memories made under an expansive sky. Thankful for rediscovering the wonder of this planet through the eyes of my children.
Thankful for old friends who remind me of the value of intimacy and deep knowing. Thankful for new friends who remind me to expand my table and heart at every opportunity. Thankful for my parents who have a lot more of me in their life at 35 than they likely imagined and haven’t gotten sick of me yet. Thankful for inlaws who love me like their own and sit beside us as often as they can.
Thankful for a God who may not change, but who grows in my imagination and my sense of wonder each year. A God who embraces my questions. Who holds me near and holds me dear. A God who won’t be defined or contained but can be always trusted.
Thankful for new mercies every morning. Thankful for children who are quick to forgive when I am too quick to correct; to raise my voice; to err on the side of shame. Thankful for a husband who is quick to love. Who wants me to grow and change. Who waters me daily (usually by bringing me my water bottle each night).
Thankful for opportunities to use my voice. To trust my intuition. To dive deeper into my own well of creativity. To experience more of God’s heart through the act of creating.
Thankful to be. Just to be; not only to produce or achieve. Thankful for slow mornings and peaceful afternoons.
Thankful. Full.
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