My New Year
by Ginnie Horst Burkholder
Someone asked me if I had made any New Year’s resolutions. I laughed, surprised that it hadn’t even occurred to me. Maybe, I thought, it is because it is all I can do to stay focused on my intentions.
I intend to live caring for myself. When my life requires more of me than I feel I have to give — in those moments when Lewy Body Disease flaunts banners at me that shout, “You are not enough!” — then I will give to myself until I have enough. When I lose me, I am lost to everyone. So I will put the oxygen mask on me first; I will understand the tear in my eye first; I will turn the light on in my soul first; and I will find a place to rest my weariness. I will ask me how I’m doing; I will look for a place to renew; and I will listen to my own heart first. I will ask, seek, and knock until I am filled to more than “enough.” I will give from the overflow. That is my intent.
I intend to live loving my children. I think of my children carving their way in a world that is changing so fast and has so many pitfalls it takes my breath away. I know they too will need to have enough. I want to package “enough” and give it to them, but that’s not the way it works. So, I want to work more at listening, mirroring, questioning, and reminding them that no matter what, they are loved.
I intend to live committed to Nelson. Even though he has morphed into a different person in a tedious LBD decline, I want to be worthy of his trust. It sounds noble and it is, I suppose. But my intentions get easily lost in daily tests of tenacity.
I intend to live believing in God. I intend to let my searching soul pick up the pieces of my life and hold them before God for inspection. I intend to let the quivering voice of doubt be enough when that’s all I can muster. When the question, “Why have you forsaken me?” presses, I intend to speak before the darkness swallows the truth that I am not alone. I intend to be unapologetic and joyful when faith carries me.
I intend to live in a community of friends and family where my life intentions get tumbled, tested, and worn smoother under the scrutiny of others. I intend to live compassionately in a world community and gently on a stressed planet.
These are the intentions that define my life. Often I lose sight of them, ignore them, fight with them; and then I come back to them to build on, fortify, refine, and redefine their application. If in the murky fog of the coming year I can live more consistently by my intentions, the year will be a prosperous one.
© 2008 Ginnie Horst Burkholder
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