In the Year of Great Expectations

I scrawled across the top of the page: January 2, 2018.

And so it begins.

Baby Girl decided to ring in the new year before 6 am this morning. Thankfully, (being the party animals that we are), we had turned in and fallen asleep by the stroke of 10, so I switched on the lamp, boiled the water, and started 2018 off with a hot bottle for breakfast.

And so it begins.

A nasty cold has invaded the sinuses and I spent both Christmas and New Year’s Eve with a bottle of Buckley’s and a bag of cough drops. The shower smells permanently of eucalyptus and my nose is three layers of peeling red skin, but this morning I woke up without the usual headache and throat of fire, so I drank my cup of coffee in all its glory, with a sweet side of cinnamon loaf.

And so it begins.

I’ve made lists upon lists of things that I want to accomplish, work for, and change in the coming year of 2018. Less complaining, more writing, less cleaning, more loving every minute… but it’s only 4:00 pm in the afternoon and I already feel like I’m Behind in Life.

And so it begins.

Our little girl has been fighting off her nap for over an hour now, and is exhausted beyond sleep. So we loaded the poor babe up in the car seat, covered her in a soft blankie with her bunny in hand, and drove off into the frigid -25 degree weather to lull her to sleep with less than a quarter of a tank of fuel left.

And so it begins.

But…

I found my favourite pair of jeans that I’d “lost”. I organized my writing desk. I ate home made turkey noodle soup and chased Baby Girl around the house. I kissed my man while he snuggled in beside me and watched Netflix during a somewhat good morning nap. We’ve made plans to play more board games this year, and be more Intentional. I want to hear God’s voice more than Ever Before.

That’s still a lot of good things to start with.

I can’t seem to stop putting stress on Important Events, especially when it comes to Beginnings. For some reason, I expect them to be perfect, and I’m not sure why. It’s like the frustration of smearing the ink on the first page of a new notebook, or messing up a drawing on a brand new poster. The expectation is high, so even the most minor of mistakes becomes a mountain of disappointment.

But isn’t that backwards?

Aren’t we actually more wobbly on our legs when we take our first steps? Don’t we fall off the bike more often when we first learn to ride? Don’t we perform better with more practice, working out all the kinks and development as we go along?

Isn’t the Whole Point that we learn to live life without putting trust in our own inherent, human abilities?

This whole time, I’ve been trying to live the Year backwards, and I didn’t even realize it. Life is hardly a game we can expect to be good at the first time around, without a few flaws and growth marks.

And so here it begins – 2018. Already messed up, already fallen down, already getting back up.

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