A new perspective for a new year.

“Show me, LORD, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.” Psalm 39

I’ve never been a fan on New Year’s Eve, even when I was an avid drinker, but I‘ve always been inspired by the gift of a new year. Regardless of my countless failed efforts, I’ve always found inspiration in making resolutions and goals for the new year. I don’t know if it’s because we are entering a new decade, or because I have reached a point in life where there are more days behind me than there are ahead, but my perspective this year seems different. My list is shorter, but deeper, this year. Like the psalmist, I find myself looking at what really matters because my days are limited, and life fleeting. It’s an awakening of sorts, and I’m glad to have been given it, but I haven’t enjoyed what brought me here:

Sitting beside a godmother struggling with cancer, knowing this would be the last time we’d see each other on this side of eternity.

Reading the entry of a beautiful, young mother on Caring Bridge as she maintains a positive attitude through an out-of-nowhere cancer diagnosis.

Meeting with someone whose been told to retire, doctor’s order, and watching as she look’s at her life’s legacy with glistening eyes.

Reading the obituary of friend who was in the class above me in high school.

Seeing an empty seat in my morning twelve-step recovery group that used to be occupied by someone who went back out and never returned.

Such moments have pointed me not to the sadness of my life’s limit, but to the importance of the time I have left. I pray it will inspire me to squeeze my loved ones more tightly, sing more loudly, and laugh more often this year. I hope it will inspire me to say yes to things that matter and no to those that do not. I hope it will change the appointments on my calendar and, in my checkbook, show increased generosity to charities working closer to the ground. 

This new year is a gift. May we receive it as such, remembering those for whom it has not been given, and making the most of every single moment it contains.

Magnifying the Lord

“My soul magnifies the Lord . . .” Mary’s song began and echoes across the centuries, still. From deep within, she uttered these words and, I’m sure, hummed the melody throughout her life, for in and through her entire life Mary sought to magnify the Lord. I wonder what the world, or our small part of it, would look like if we sought to magnify the Lord daily.

Do our homes magnify the Lord?

Do the words we use magnify the Lord?

Does our listening magnify the Lord?

Does the way we make a living magnify the Lord?

Does our giving magnify us or the Lord?

Does the way we spend our time magnify us or the Lord?

Does the way we respond to those in need magnify the Lord?

Do our political views and the way we vote magnify the Lord?

On my desk there’s a magnifying glass which I bought to remind me to look closely at the world around me, but today, in this season of Advent, its message is enhanced. It’s as convicting as it is inspirational, reminding me that my life should magnify the Lord. I suspect we all have a lot of work to do. 

How blessed are we to be given such an opportunity every day?

Making Room

The waitress comes to fill my coffee before I’ve had a chance to take a sip. With my mug full of my old coffee, there was no room for the new. Christmas carols play above, and I listen clinging to my mug with both hands and listening to the music as if kneeling at an altar rail.

The Christmas season can be like juggling emotional hand grenades. The highs are so high, and lows so low. The songs that surround us, many of which are set in minor keys, invite us into a seasonal descent toward thoughts and feelings we often ignore, or deny. Rather than avoid such a melancholy pilgrimage, I dive in, dive down and think about the people I miss and the memories that feel too distant. It’s like reaching into my soul with an ice cream scoop and removing the sediment that’s built up over time. It’s not easy work, nor comfortable, which is probably why people avoid it with stretched smiles, artificially stimulated joy, and calendars too full to reflect. 

There’s a strange relief on the other side, however. It’s as if my soul has more room to breathe when I clear out the old and make room for the new. 

The waitress returns and, this time, there’s room in my mug.

1. Do you ever have melancholy thoughts during this time of year? If so, do you ignore or deny them, or do you allow yourself to feel the feelings?

2. In what way can you make time this season to make room inside?

3. Pick one of your favorite Christmas songs and sit still for the whole thing, letting your heart and mind go where they will.