January, January. The month of starting over. The month of diets, putting away the Christmas tree, re-budgeting. Blech.

At least that’s how I’m feeling. Blech. I’m back to work, back to the routine, back in my house with all the luggage to put away, pine needles to sweep up, bills, and stuff that needs fixing.

Everything on the outside needing to be done feels like a manifestation of my insides. There is stuff to put away (grudges, worries). There is stuff that needs re-budgeting (priorities, how I use my time). There are goals and dreams and hopes I’d like to make happen (write that book, pray more, be a more present mother). I want to read more, travel more, organize those family photos, and learn to express myself eloquently when speaking.

Quite a list, isn’t it? And I gave you the short one. It’s never been hard for me set goals. I’m a natural-born evaluator. It’s always been in me to look for ways to improve. In some ways, this proclivity has helped me. I am always looking ahead and this has helped me in both my personal and professional life.

But constantly straining for the future has also held me back. I rob myself of contentment because I think about all that needs to be done or accomplished. I put off enjoying the present moment, because my to-do list gnaws at me. I set unrealistic expectations and ensure myself of disappointment. And I put off many needful things in favor of immediate needs. This causes conflict inside. And it makes me tired, a lot.

When I was in Wisconsin for Christmas break, my husband and I took a walk around his old neighborhood one night. The moon was just coming up between the bare tree branches. We walked down his lane to the road that runs in front of Lake Sinissippi. The sun was just setting, and everything was quiet, wrapped in dusky light. Gray sky. Gray trees. Gray frozen lake.

Ryan pointed out the hill where he and his buddies would sled down, over the county road and onto the frozen lake. He showed me where he would cut through the field to walk home, where his friends lived, which houses were new, which ones had been there forever. Quite literally, a walk down memory lane.

It was New Year’s Day, and it was nice to look back and be quiet. To think and reflect. To walk slowly around a neighborhood, carefully across a frozen lake.

I don’t want to spend the first four weeks of the new year tearing my life apart. I just don’t. I want to sit here and be quiet. I want to think about everything I have. I want to reflect a bit. I want to look back and figure out the things that have worked and those that haven’t.

Moving on is good. Hopes are good. But I need a foundation. I need the things that are important in place before I plunge into this new year. So I’m going to spend the next few weeks looking back and writing about my past. And I hope that will clear the way for the future.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for this new year. I have so much to be grateful for. Thank you for the chance to start again. Thank you for the hope you give me and for being unchanging, constant, and always full of grace. Please help me to find a little quiet time in every day to pray and to reflect this January. Help me to keep the needful things, prayer and reading your Word, in the forefront of my life. Amen.