I’ve been turning this prompt over in my mind all day. I’d like to write a tidy to do list, an action plan I could check off in neat strokes.
I have not written that list. I have not chosen a word for 2014. Out of the bottomless pool of words I love, none has flickered to the surface to wink at me and invite me to dive with it into this new year.
I suspect the habits I most need to embrace for this new season are not the ones that begin and end with a yoga mat, or a kitchen scale, or even pen and paper. Any behavior I would take up seems to match up with the harder, intangible need for internal change. They press their palms together on either side of the glass.
There is nothing tidy about choosing prayer and peace over worry. There is no five step plan for learning to lean into the difficult moment and ask what a loving response looks like. There is no map to the courage to nurture our boys in the way we feel called to, not the way the unnamed “everybody else” does. There is no good fairy to whisper continually in my ear, “This, now. Pay attention. This is the good part.” Nobody else is going to be my true self in the world, hopefully with grace and gentleness, but without apology as well.
And yet these are the habits I want for 2014, the ones that will fuel the being, the writing, the parenting, the homeschooling and mothering of a schoolboy, the inhabiting of this nearly forty-two year old body.
I look ahead, trusting that all fearful and wonderful work happens in the dark and quiet.
Gratefully writing along with other lovely folks