Tenderloins and New Year's Resolutions

I didn’t expect to learn an important lesson about New Year’s resolutions from a tenderloin, but I did. Using my handy-dandy meat thermometer, I cooked a tenderloin to medium-rare perfection, only to find the slices well-done once they arrived at the table. Much to my dismay, I learned meat continues to cook after it's taken from the oven.

When thinking about New Year’s reolutions, I can't help but see the similarity between why we so often fail in sticking with our well-intentioned resolutions and the tenderloin. Most of us expect immediate success, visible results, and when we do not get them we quit. We forget the habits we seek to change, like tenderloins, continue to cook even after we take them from the oven.

Just because we decide to stop swearing doesn’t mean the words won't continue to come. The bad habit will continue to “cook” even after we resolve to change.

Just because we decide to eat better and exercise more doesn't mean the scale will cease to absorb our holiday eating habits last month. 

Just because we decide to live more frugally doesn’t mean our checkbook balances will instantly increase. Windowed envelopes will arrive even after we make such a resolution. Credit card statements will bring the burden of past spending, no matter what our new intentions may be.

Just because we decide to change a behavior, or improve a relationship, doesn’t mean others will stand and applaud our resolution. Past ways continue to “cook” after we take them out of the oven, and, if others respond at all, it will only be after noticeable, sustained change.

Just because we resolve to grow spiritually this year won't make it so. Only in time will the benefits of removing cobwebs from our spiritual disciplines be noticeable. At first, the distance we feel from God and others will continue to “cook,” and, too often, that causes us to quit.

The great gift of living is we can change. The challenge is surviving the frustrations of those initial steps in a new direction. Remembering the lesson of the tenderloin can help us weather the remnants of our past, the continued cooking, until we get to the other side of our old ways and reach a life more in sync with what we value. To give ourselves permission to "stumble in the right direction," as they say in twelve-step recovery circles, and live a life of progress not perfection, may well lead to a happy new year.