I wanted to start the New Year (and I suppose to finish this past year) off with a journal entry. Not a particularly big or deeply reflective one, however. These past three years (i.e. 2020 - present) have encompassed crazy amounts of life changes, even without all the politics and worldwide pandemic. As I sit quietly in my little studio here in San Diego—listening to the rainfall and the parade of homebrewed fireworks outside my door—I begin to feel the weight of it all. 2022 alone included some of my highest heights (so far) and my lowest lows, and I am grateful to realize I have felt God's love through all of it. The hellebores tattooed on my upper arm will forever commemorate these events:
Being flowers of resistance, they endure the dead of winter and bloom in harsh circumstances.
For some reason, a few nights ago, my brain decided that 4 a.m. was the perfect time to process the last few years (or start to at least) and I came to a simple conclusion...
If there is one thing that I'm praying for this year, it's this: balance and neutrality.
As we move into 2023, I'm admittedly a bit tentative about starting over yet another 365 days. My steps are hesitant, careful, and cautious. Yet though I step slowly, I am still moving forward, and more importantly, I am not fearful. Ideally, I would like to improve myself—physically, financially, and emotionally; be more mindful of my nutrition and sleep schedule, etc. That being said, I honestly have no major resolutions, expectations, or specific goals mapped out going into the new year. For one of the first times in my life, I feel ready and equipped to take my hands off the reigns of my future and just let God steer (...which sounds a tad silly, as He's already been doing that so faithfully, through the major ups and major downs.)
This brings me back to my singular prayer this year... that 2023 be a season of balance and neutrality. Not to be mistaken for apathy, as in my 75mg of lack-of-feeling Zoloft days, but as I've previously stated, I'm a person who lives in extremes. I've undergone a rollercoaster of joy and sorrow this last year (and the two that came before). I would love to see at least the next few months pass by quietly, finding rest in the middleground. I give praise to God that I may find Him in the calm that comes after the storm, and pray that I may dwell in the peaceful bliss that comes from meditative stillness.