You know, I've never been a huge initiator of change. And yet, invited or not, at the end of every Christmas season comes a new year. A new year of new opportunities, new growth, new associations, new...lots of things. Yet as I'm laying here, listening to the constant booms of fire works echo across the sky and past my window pane, I find myself self homesick for 2020. I know, I know....2020 was the worst year ever, but I came to find comfort in the familiarity of living in 2020 for the last year.
Tonight we finished reading the Book of Mormon as a family. It was a wonderful experience. We set a goal and we worked hard to achieve it. That felt good. Sharing the beautiful messages and truths with my children, also felt good.
If I've learned anything from this year it is that I can't assume what the future will hold, even the most mundane expectations such as going to church and school can simply be swept away in an instant. With that larger realization entering 2021, I'm uncertain what I'm stepping into this year. There is something unnerving in that from someone who loves routine. I often feel nostalgic in the moment, and as I snuck a peek around the dinner table during prayer tonight my heart swelled with aching Joy for the fleeting season we are in raising our family.
As I lay here, I suppose I am feeling how small my life is. How do you expand something you love just the way it is? How to yearn new experiences when I crave more of what I am experiencing in this moment?
I suppose there is nothing to do at this point besides choosing to look forward and embrace whatever comes my way this year. Tonight I say good bye to a unique year that gifted me some important understandings through unexpected experiences.
Good night 2020.
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