For the majority of my fellow countrymen, today will be filled with bright thoughts toward the future. Resolutions. Goals. Laughter. Bright dreams.
I, also, will look down the road that stretches on in front of me and wonder and dream about what it might hold. But not just yet. The brightness of the year I’m leaving behind, the path I’m now stepping off of, is too dazzling, too gorgeous for me to tear my eyes away from just yet.
I want to take this moment, this last deep breath before the plunge into the new year, to tell God, and you, what I’m feeling. And what I’m feeling is overwhelming gratitude.
Gratitude for eyes that see. Pencils and rubber erasers that can transform pure white into the face of a person just with strokes I make with the lead. Hobbits. Old home videos that leave my family wiping our eyes with laughter. Friendship (several friendships) more real and beautiful than I deserve. N.D. Wilson, and the Henry that he sent through a cupboard in an attic wall in Kansas. The eyes of my mother. The high-pitched, laugh-inducing sneezes of my sister’s dog. A trillion gazillion six-pointed, white masterpieces that transform my yard into a frozen wonderland. Benedict Cumberbatch, in all his wonderful Britishness. A Creator who stooped into the world He created, into the mixed ugliness and beauty of the planet Earth, because He loved me so much He couldn’t stand being apart from me. Pulling colored thread through cloth, and painting pictures on the fabric with my needle. Words that I can rearrange and combine to create characters, stories, lives, deaths, trials, and victories.
And I want to tell all of you – you brave souls who have signed on to read posts full of my thoughts – thank you. Not a single “like”, a single comment, has gone unnoticed. I have been staggered and humbled by the interest that you have shown in reading my words. I want you to know that I pray for all of you, asking that the Author of the world we live in – the world of puppy’s sneezes and tears and smile-wrinkles and sunsets – would show you how very, very much He loves you. He wrote your story. He wrote mine. His story, the one we’re all living in, is the inspiration for all the others.
My heart is still full of the beauties and healed pains and joys that I have gathered from this past year. The beautiful thing is that I don’t have to part with the harvest I’ve reaped to make room for the next. This is a crop that keeps growing every day that I’m alive. I glean from a field full of blessings and new discoveries. Holding the hand of my Father, I want to go deeper into this field than I have ever dared before.
There. I’ve finally turned to look toward the horizon that everyone else is gazing at today. I’m finally ready to gaze with them, smiling. I have gathered the fruit of last year’s field, and am looking forward with hope to all the treasures that the next one has in store.