New Year

For the past several years, I have observed a ritual each December.  Towards the end of the month, I have debriefed the ending year, listing everything I’m thankful to God for.  Then, I have prepared for the upcoming year by creating a vision, a list of goals, and strategies for achieving those goals.

This past December, I did none of this.

This is because in December of 2009, I committed to allowing God to give me new wineskins in 2010.  I felt that He wanted to serve me new, fresh wine, but that I needed new wineskins in order to have the capacity to accommodate it.

2010 didn’t disappoint with its bitter-sweet drinks. In 2010, I:

  • made a major shift in my career focus
  • let go of a long-held dream
  • released myself from all of my goals and strategies for the last quarter of the year
  • embarked on a new path—one replete with hope, but devoid of guarantees

In short, I changed one plan, aborted another, delayed still another, and now have no plan at all.  (And this is blasphemous for a woman who

always

has a plan, even if that plan is simply to

not

have a plan.)  

Over the course of the year, I went from reluctantly sipping wine that seemed bitter to freely gulping what came to taste sweet to my palette.

On New Year’s Eve, I sat in church, hoping for an idea for my 2011 vision.  Unsurprisingly, nothing came to mind.

Nothing except one word: love.

So in 2011, I will love. And be loved.  I have no goals, no strategy, no plan.  All I have is my relationship with Love, master teacher and most patient lover.