Year-end Thoughts

I have this fun little tradition of silently reviewing the year that has been. This year is different only in that I am doing so earlier than is typical.

This year I’ve watched sunrises on my way to school and been moved to tears by the knowledge that God, who makes the sun rise, also watches over me. I’ve felt His presence as I sat in lectures and let the full realization of just how blessed I truly am settle into my soul. I have smiled at strangers, hugged friends, and kissed the forehead of my sleeping daughter. I have danced close to the edges of my sanity and pushed myself to levels of exhaustion I haven’t known since Lauren was born. I have felt the approval of my dad shine on me like the sun on a spring afternoon, reminding me that he is never far from me. I have read good books, tasted fantastic wine, and kissed handsome men. I have touched history and made it come alive for my daughter. I have said hello and goodbye to amazing people. I have said thank you to several and have received the warming hugs of those who are thankful for me. All in all, 2010 – my 33rd year – was great.

For all that I have done, there is an even more impressive list of things I have not done.

I have not read my Bible every day. I have not displayed the proverbial patience of Job I've heard so much about. I have not exercised every day (honestly, I think I only went to the gym once). I have not taken my cholesterol medication every night. I have not smiled sweetly at the old lady driving with her right blinker on in front of me through the entire parking lot at the grocery store. Incidentally, a right turn would place her square in the customer service area, likely with victims. I have not bought Girl or Boy Scout any things. I have not forwarded emails and text messages about how much Jesus loves veterans and kittens and how little I do if I delete the messages. I have not adopted one of Sara McLachlan’s pitiful animals from those gut-wrenching commercials of hers. I have not wondered where Waldo is because frankly, if he’s not been found after all this time, I’m guessing he doesn’t want to be. I have not exercised restraint when faced with a delicious bottle of wine. I have not thanked a teacher, hugged a chipmunk, punched a Republican, saluted a police officer, nor have I visited anyone in prison. And it should be quite obvious that I have not lost that charming wit for which I am most famous.

All that being said, I want to make this one thing very clear: It is neither what I have done nor what I have not done that really matters in my life. Yes, I have a laundry list of places I want to visit, statues I want to see, and places I want to sit in silence and pray to God. I have a cookbook filled with recipes I want to try and a World Market between me and school that I want to personally finance via my purchases. All of these silly things are important to me and yet none is as important as this very simple yet life-changing, time-splitting, everlasting truth:

"This is how much God loved the world: He gave his Son, his one and only Son. And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life. God didn't go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was. He came to help, to put the world right again. Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it. And why? Because of that person's failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him" (John 3:16 from The Message).

This is the part where I remember that no matter what, it - life, the purpose, the point, the big picture - has nothing to do with me. I can relax. I can breathe. I can smile knowing that I can't really screw it up much more than it already is, because I'm not in control. So I can go to Italy. I can eat carbs, drink wine, and flirt a little too much. I can dance in my bathroom and sing in my car and love my neighbor - whatever it is, I can just let it be knowing that God, the one who began my faith and only in whom will I ever see it completed, is planning an all-out victory based not on what I do or don't do, but on who He is, what He has done, and the sacrifice He made.

I'll drink to that.