2023: The Year of Light

 A few years ago, I decided that instead of New Year's resolutions, I would have a word of the year, and that word would ideally be my guiding principle for the year.  To be perfectly honest, it hasn't worked out all that well, mainly because I write the word on the front page of my new planner for the year, and then promptly forget about it until I'm setting up the next year's planner.  So, my word of the year for 2022 was "fruitful."  Not in the sense of having babies, mind you--that ship has long sailed.  But the idea was that I would intentionally do things during the year that would make a positive difference in the world.  Now, the problem with "fruitful" was twofold:  first, I didn't make any plans that would enable me to be fruitful, so it was haphazard at best; and second, and more importantly, I didn't think about what fruit is.

We have a half-crabapple, half-apple tree in our front yard.  We planted the crabapple tree many years ago, and then some time between then and now someone must have thrown an apple core into our yard, because about five years ago we noticed that there was a second very different trunk entwined with the first one, and suddenly we had apples as well as crabapples.  Who knows when that apple core found its way into the dirt near our existing tree, but it certainly was long before we noticed the first tiny green inedible apples growing next to the crabapples.  Even the crabapple tree, which we planted as a tree, didn't bear fruit immediately.  Seeds take time to become fruit.  So, while I was hoping to be fruitful in 2022, any seeds I was planting, whether or not I was aware of planting them, would take time to grow.  It's possible I will never see the fruit of the seeds I've planted, because the fruit is not for me.  

What fruit do I see from 2022?  The maturation of the seeds planted in me by others:  my love of cross-stitching, planted by my mom and others in my family, sustained by my friends Rob and Dot at very different points in my life, renewed by Music City Stitchers and various Facebook pages; my rediscovery of quiet and prayer, planted by Dr. Judy Skeen and books by Henri Nouwen, Robert Benson, Barbara Brown Taylor, and Frederick Buechner; the rethinking of my faith, planted by my church, a soul-reviving group of women reading and discussing Brian McLaren's Do I Stay Christian?, and Philip Gulley's Unlearning God; my reemergence into communities of people, planted by new friends of the Baha'i faith and the Quakers; my realization that my real passion is writing, planted by Cathy Heller and the guests on her Don't Keep Your Day Job podcast; my zeal for finally losing what I've been calling "baby weight," but let's be honest . . ., planted by Kate Johnston's coaching.  This is the real fruit of 2022--seeds planted by others that I have the privilege of harvesting and enjoying.  Sadly, some of these sowers have passed away, but I hope to tell some of them of the fruit they have produced in my life.

Moving on to 2023, I'm working on a hybrid plan:  a word of the year mixed with resolutions.  The word is "light."  I think of the Bible, in John 1:5:  "The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (NIV)  I could write a whole book on light metaphors, but there are two characteristics of light that are my focus.  First, it only takes a tiny bit of light to conquer darkness.  One little spark may not dispel all the dark corners, but it does take away the totality of the darkness.  One kind word, one smile, one Facebook "like," one piece of trash picked up, one turning of the other cheek, one item given to someone in need--only one small flame has the darkness cowering in fear.  The other characteristic of light is that it increases as it's shared.  My favorite gathering at church is the Christmas Eve candlelight service.  We start with only the altar candles lit, but then as one, and then another, and then another candle is lit, the sanctuary fills with light, sweeping the darkness into only the farthest corners.  Each of those candles bears only a small flame, but as each is lit, fear is replaced by hope, discouragement by optimism, the dark night of the soul by the light of Christ.  Taking this as my word of the year, I'm focusing on the light that is brought into my life, and ways I can share that light with others.

To that end, my resolutions include journaling, cross-stitching with and for others, reading books that are inspiring and illuminating, continuing to talk with people of various backgrounds about ways we can make the world a better place despite our differences, and writing--sharing my experiences of light with a dark world.  

This is my first official blog, so if you're reading it, you're in on the ground floor!  My intention is to bring inspiration and illumination through the writing, and to encourage my readers to inspire and illuminate their little corner of the world.  If you like what you read, feel free to share, and let me know what you've found inspiring or illuminating in your own experience.  Have a safe, happy, and healthy 2023!