Every January, I feel like a marathon runner (I wish!) who started out the race this time last year, paced himself into spring, sprinted around the corner into summer, stumbled and lost a couple of positions in the fall, and by the time winter reared its ugly head, was gasping and clawing his way to the finish line (with the obligatory stops to graze festively during Thanksgiving and Christmas).
Oh, the journey began with great intentions to accomplish marvelous goals and stay the course. And as January 1 tolled itself in, I–as many of you–took a moment or two or three, between bowl games, to sink deeper into my easy chair and reflect on what I had to say for myself regarding 2019, and ponder what new “goals” I should make. (I stopped years ago referring to them as “resolutions;” the term sounds suspiciously like an action of Congress, which we have far too many of already) And no, I did not stay awake for the ball to drop, like something magical and unexpected is going to happen at that moment. The last time something like THAT was supposed to happen was when Y2K was supposed to fry all our computers and thrust us all back to the 1930s. After sixty-some odd years on this planet, staying up to watch the talking heads on TV tell me its officially time to practice writing a new year, it all seems rather anticlimactic to lose sleep over such a non-event; especially when the East Coast goes ahead and obligingly accommodates my sleep cycle by broadcasting it live at 10:00MST.
But as I contemplated the prior year, I found that I actually had accomplished some things worth patting myself on the back over: I was able to successfully shed 65 lbs., which then had enabled me to go “shopping” in the spare closet where I had thrown all my old clothes years ago with the dubious promise that “I will fit into these again someday;” I subsequently lowered my bad cholesterol and blood sugar numbers below the “red flag” range my doctor had scolded me about the previous year; and I slid to the finish line by finishing the second novel of my planned trilogy of historical novels based in New Mexico.
But really, if the truth be told, I must admit that I don’t consider that I reached these goals completely on my own. In addition to ongoing encouragement from my family and friends, I must first and foremost give thanks and credit to God Almighty for helping me to stay focused on the main stuff–that is, Him–so that “all of this shall be added.”
I am confident that continuing that proper focus will have me looking back this time next year on even more milestones reached in weight loss, yet another novel in the bag, and who knows . . . real Peace on Earth and Good Will toward Men? Well . . . perhaps that starts with me and my attitudes, and the good work He’s already begun within me–and will be faithful to complete.
Richard C. Trice 