reflection
Resolving to Readiness
Alex, circa June 19th, 2015:
“Future me, I hope you look back on these entries and see how much you have grown. I hope you realize that every day has something worth mentioning if you think hard enough about it. I hope this journal shows you that your current struggles will pass, and there is joy in the little things in life. I hope you appreciate the people around you and that you let them know your gratitude. But most of all, I hope you remember that it’s not about you, that happiness and peace is found in God and following his commands. Don’t lose sight of your place in God's Kingdom.”
“Future me, I hope you look back on these entries and see how much you have grown. I hope you realize that every day has something worth mentioning if you think hard enough about it. I hope this journal shows you that your current struggles will pass, and there is joy in the little things in life. I hope you appreciate the people around you and that you let them know your gratitude. But most of all, I hope you remember that it’s not about you, that happiness and peace is found in God and following his commands. Don’t lose sight of your place in God's Kingdom.”
Alex, circa December 31st, 2015:
“It's New Year’s Eve, and I spent the day blowing my nose and marathoning Felicity with my mom. My friends are spending the night out in Boston, but I’m just really not up for it.”
“I know I will go through harder times than this. [this being romantic troubles and not finding my place first semester of college] But it’s tough when you have all of what the world says you need to be happy, but you still aren’t.”
“I am growing into my own skin and changing, which both scares the crap out of me and excites me.”
“It's New Year’s Eve, and I spent the day blowing my nose and marathoning Felicity with my mom. My friends are spending the night out in Boston, but I’m just really not up for it.”
“I know I will go through harder times than this. [this being romantic troubles and not finding my place first semester of college] But it’s tough when you have all of what the world says you need to be happy, but you still aren’t.”
“I am growing into my own skin and changing, which both scares the crap out of me and excites me.”
Alex, circa December 31st, 2016:
“Ah yes, time for Alex’s big reflection on the year. All please rise. [at least I stopped taking myself so seriously]”
“Ah yes, time for Alex’s big reflection on the year. All please rise. [at least I stopped taking myself so seriously]”
Alex, circa December 31st, 2017:
“The world will continue to turn faster and faster, and I will continue to work my life away. But I want to savor and crystallize the important moments and praise God continually throughout work and the rest of my life. This is my last year of college, and soon I will be spit into the workforce. 2018 will definitely have some curves, but I’ll be ready. Maybe.”
Dearest Alex, sweet summer child, you won’t.
“The world will continue to turn faster and faster, and I will continue to work my life away. But I want to savor and crystallize the important moments and praise God continually throughout work and the rest of my life. This is my last year of college, and soon I will be spit into the workforce. 2018 will definitely have some curves, but I’ll be ready. Maybe.”
Dearest Alex, sweet summer child, you won’t.
I’m going to save my faith musings (because they are shallow and cliche and something I need to do to grow but gosh they do not need to be public) and a majority of my grief talk for my own journal, but I want to say something about goal setting. Goals are on a lot of people’s minds when it comes to the New Year, but I’ve never thought of myself as a goal person. On the contrary, I’ve recently realized that I’m an extremely goal-driven person in that I set small goals and view them as obligations. Perhaps this isn’t the healthiest way to view goals, but most of mine are pretty attainable with a little work so I do end up meeting a good number of them. I don’t tend to set large goals because I don’t work towards them when they aren’t broken down into steps. Focusing on those larger goals that I consistently fail to meet leaves a bad taste in my mouth rather than motivating me for a new year.
Instead of goals, I have often taken time on New Year's Eve to reflect on how I have grown. Glancing through my journals, I see some cringey sentiments and moments I would rather forget but also nuggets of wisdom that have become important to me in seeing who I was and how I (or my life) has changed since 2015. I now have a strong sense of self-identity, self-worth, and self-purpose. I have grown from seeing faith as something that I am bad at to something that comes in multiple sometimes non-conventional avenues for me. I feel like an adult with a voice to contribute to the world, by which I mean my little piece of the universe.
In other ways, I haven’t changed. I have continued to love and be loved by the people around me. I still appreciate the small moments that surround me and use writing to make sense of them. At my core, despite all my supposed identity crises, I think I still am who I was when I was a three-year-old: dancing (read: spinning around in a circle) to the Rockettes and licking my brother's 5th birthday cake—delighted by life and basking in the glow of its treasures.
Sometimes life’s treasures are chalices whose poisoned wine seems to leach through the rough steel into my unsuspecting veins before I even understand what I hold. But even the most recent cup of Mom’s death, spiked with disbelief and enormity, has brought memories and people into focus, especially myself.
As I look towards 2019, the strongest feeling I have is a sense of readiness. I’m ready to buckle in and show whoever will listen what I have to offer. I’m ready to move from the self-service sphere of college to the life-demanding grind of teaching. I’m ready to deepen my roots in unfamiliar soil. I’m ready to grow toward the best Alex whom my mom always believed in.
My prayer as I lay 2018 to rest and look to 2019, drawn from Psalm 16:
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. You make known to me the path of life, and you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead. Keep me safe, my God, and counsel me day and night. May you alone be my portion and my cup.
Instead of goals, I have often taken time on New Year's Eve to reflect on how I have grown. Glancing through my journals, I see some cringey sentiments and moments I would rather forget but also nuggets of wisdom that have become important to me in seeing who I was and how I (or my life) has changed since 2015. I now have a strong sense of self-identity, self-worth, and self-purpose. I have grown from seeing faith as something that I am bad at to something that comes in multiple sometimes non-conventional avenues for me. I feel like an adult with a voice to contribute to the world, by which I mean my little piece of the universe.
In other ways, I haven’t changed. I have continued to love and be loved by the people around me. I still appreciate the small moments that surround me and use writing to make sense of them. At my core, despite all my supposed identity crises, I think I still am who I was when I was a three-year-old: dancing (read: spinning around in a circle) to the Rockettes and licking my brother's 5th birthday cake—delighted by life and basking in the glow of its treasures.
Sometimes life’s treasures are chalices whose poisoned wine seems to leach through the rough steel into my unsuspecting veins before I even understand what I hold. But even the most recent cup of Mom’s death, spiked with disbelief and enormity, has brought memories and people into focus, especially myself.
As I look towards 2019, the strongest feeling I have is a sense of readiness. I’m ready to buckle in and show whoever will listen what I have to offer. I’m ready to move from the self-service sphere of college to the life-demanding grind of teaching. I’m ready to deepen my roots in unfamiliar soil. I’m ready to grow toward the best Alex whom my mom always believed in.
My prayer as I lay 2018 to rest and look to 2019, drawn from Psalm 16:
The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. You make known to me the path of life, and you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead. Keep me safe, my God, and counsel me day and night. May you alone be my portion and my cup.
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