I'm looking out on a grey sky and freezing temperatures. Ice clings to branches and fences, winter embedded firmly in the outside world. We have been in Quebec City the last few days, a quick and delightful trip across an international border to what is arguably the most charming city in North America. Last night we got home to a cold house, a house bereft of light and warmth.
Quebec City was dressed in its holiday best, with lights sparkling off outdoor Christmas trees, and every window in shops and restaurants decorated with beautiful ornaments, lights, and greenery. Coming home I work to infuse the joy of yesterday into the melancholy of today.
Today marks the end of 2017. Tomorrow comes and brings with it a new year.
The end of the year brings out the melancholy in me, and I reflect as I sit by a still present and ever-lovely Christmas tree.
There are so many things I did not know as I began 2017. I did not know last year that my father would die in October. I did not know that I would face challenges as a mom and daughter that broke my heart and confused my brain. I did not know that I would watch friends across the world who have been in refugee camps get married and begin new lives. I did not know all the times I would laugh so hard it hurt or cry so hard that there were no more tears. I did not know that I would read new words, write new essays, make new friends, and hold tightly to old ones. I did not know the words that I would say that would hurt, and the other words I would say that would encourage.
I did not know that I would learn more about the difference between hope and expectations; that confusing the two can be dangerous and disappointing. I did not know that I would learn that you don't quit living when someone you love dies; that instead you love harder and fight for what is lovely and good and true and right.
But if any one epiphany stands out from this past year, it is this: Faith isn't about a particular outcome; rather, it's about full confidence in one who already knows the outcome. It's about trusting in the character of God as one who is good; as one who loves to give good gifts to his creation. Faith is belief that there is one who holds us when we can't stand, who hears our tears when no one else is listening, and who whispers "I am with you" when all around us are asleep.
We don't know, we can't know, at the beginning of each year what will follow. It's a bit like picking up a new book, one that we have read no reviews on, one whose cover looked interesting but that's all we have. We pick it up and we begin to read. We enter into a story. All we have is the page that is open, the page that is today. There is no page called tomorrow.
We enter the story in faith on that page called 'today'. We enter and begin a rhythm that takes us from minutes to hours; from hours to days; from days to months; from months to seasons; from seasons to years with faith interwoven through all of it.
So today, as we close out 2017, I challenge us to walk in the faith of today. It's all we can do, and it is enough.
"You mustn't wish for another life. You mustn't want to be somebody else. What you must do is this:
"Rejoice evermore.
Pray without ceasing.
In everything give thanks."
I am not all the way capable of so much, but those are the right instructions."*
