February is hardly a month when I reflect. I doubt that it’s a month when anyone does, either. It’s never the time for looking back and thinking over what I’ve accomplished, what I’ve failed at, what I should ball up and toss in the fire. It’s more a month when, frustrated at my failure to follow through with my resolutions (when I have them), I come to terms with the fact that it’s too late in the year to make any ‘beginnings’. I settle uncomfortably into my old former-year self and trudge on. It’s a stale month, often flying by unnoticed.
I’ve failed at every resolution I made at the start of the year. The first was to give gratitude. I succeeded, at first, but my initial successes justified my latter complacency. And here I am. The second was to read more. I’ve made it through a few pages of Sandcastle Kings. And here I am. The third was to write more. And here I yet again am, writing my first blog post in close to two months. I’ve begun to write other pieces, but they’ve been left hanging in the air, losing their need for existing. They might die of depression, I fear. Still, this February feels different.
I’ve learnt to count my blessings. Thus far, I’ve succeeded at things I didn’t set out to do. I’ve succeeded at connecting- truly connecting- with someone I’m growing to care deeply about. I’ve succeeded at facing my life’s biggest fears and telling them they have little bearing on what I can and will do (I’ll brew tea and talk about this more explicitly and elaborately in posts in the near future). I’ve succeeded at realizing that I’ve found myself in the warm, delicate embrace of friendships that anchor me. I’ve succeeded at loving myself a little bit more today than I did a month ago. And today, I have finally succeeded at sitting down and writing this.
I cannot shake the feeling that this year is going to be a good one. In the hopeful spirit that looks on to the rest of the year, it’s only fitting that I share a piece of my heart for the near future.
I want to give more, and more gladly. Giving is uncomfortable for me. This happens to one when one is anywhere near as sentimental as I am. I cling on to things. To moments, to people, to memories- to things and trinkets that speak of those moments and of those people and of those memories. So much that to give them away breaks my heart, plunging me into the illusion that by doing so, I am giving away those things that I dearly love, and of my life itself.
But you know what love does? It is so compelling that it outshines the discomfort. It consumes us with its purpose, so that our intentions become embedded in its very folds. It replaces reluctance with resolve, hesitance with honour, fear with faith. And it is in love, for God, and for those that I love, that I seek to find everything I need to give. Authentically, wholeheartedly, and with a sincere heart.
This blog is one such place that I hope to give- everything that God purposes for me to give, and everything that God purposes for you to receive. As always, my gratitude abounds, and I am excited to have the grace to remain on this journey with you. The last time I wrote, I was about to begin a mini-series. Starting next week Monday, I’m picking that up again, but I felt it necessary to kick of my year, as late as I am, with this note (that has become much lengthier than I initially anticipated). All the rest will come as sporadically as always. I hope you’ll journey on with me.
All my gratitude,
(Featured Photo from here)