From "What" to "Why"

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Dear Joy,

Goal setting, resolutions, looking back, looking forward... 'tis the season for all of it. I get a little anxious, right around January 1st, because everyone is making these great lists, and I'm over here, just trying to take down the Christmas tree and get dinner figured out.

I used to go crazy, compiling pages of resolutions, achievements, and goals. It was seven years ago on New Year's Day, the first time Marty and I set goals together. We took the train in to Chicago, and high up above the city, in a tiny hotel room with a plush king-sized bed and a view of another high-rise across the street, we wrote out our dreams and hopes and goals for the next year, the next five years, the next ten years. (Apparently, we couldn't think past age thirty-four. When you're in your early twenties, you mostly think, does life even happen after age thirty-four?) Our lists were ambitious, precious, filled with big dreams, lots of traveling, marathons, a dog, and five to six children. (All of this seemed completely reasonable at the time, tucked away in our dreamy hotel room, tummies full after a perfect, late, leisurely Italian dinner. We were deliriously happy novices.)

I'm not mocking our early-twenty-something selves, Goals are important, and really, you have to start somewhere. We've kept up our little goal-setting sessions for the most part, at the beginning of every year. I can pull out sheets of notebook paper from years past. They list lots and lots of things, more than most human beings could achieve in an average lifetime, and run the entire gamut: vague ("work out regularly"), boring ("take video of entire house for insurance purposes"), slightly impractical ("travel to Hawaii once every 5 years"), easily attainable ("pay for the person behind me in the Starbucks drive-thru"), ambitiously optimistic ("see pyramids"), and so on.

I can tell you what my dreams were for 2014, 2013, 2012... but 2015 is blank. This past year was dramatically different. It started off with us still in the middle of lots of messy things, and I never got around to setting goals or making resolutions. I was hanging on as my life was swirling, changing faster than I could keep up with. I looked back, and saw that I barely even journaled in December, January, or February of last year. Silence.

And yet, in the absence of lists, 2015 has shown me exactly what to aim for in 2016. Sure, I've got little goals that I've set for myself -- things like brush my kids' teeth every night, or only plant two tomato plants in the garden come springtime, because goodness knows no one eats tomatoes in this house. So there are tiny things like that. But this year, because of last year, I've got two priorities.

Love God.

Love people.

These two biggies are typical, general, sweeping, and painfully cliche. But hey, that's unfortunate, because (1) they're straight from the mouth of Jesus (see Matthew 22), and (2) 2015 taught me that these are the things that matter. I'm a list-based, achievement-driven success addict who sees more value in pounding out my to-do's on a Saturday morning than taking time for a long conversation, a slow meal, or a trip to the park. "Relationality" and I have been oil and water, apples and oranges, tea versus coffee. Part of this is practical (I have high-maintenance kids, and when they're awake, I don't get much done), but mostly, this is all driven by the simple belief that I'll be happier if I could just finish the list.

Guess what? (You already know this.) The list is never done. The list doesn't satisfy. The list is a cruel master.

Here's what surprisingly (but not surprisingly) has satisfied me, deep down in my soul, this past year:

Choosing to consistently pray, and study the Bible, not from a "just get it done" motivation, but from a genuine intention to know, understand, and better love God.

Dropping "the list" when a friend calls. Being with someone who needs someone to be with. Answering the phone, even when kids are swordfighting, dinner is boiling over, and it would be easier to listen to a voicemail later.

Taking the time to really think things through. Why is he really acting like this? What's underneath her words here? Why the heck do I want to lock myself in a closet right now? Reacting less, contemplating more, out of a motivation of love.

You get the idea, I think. I'm confessing my obsession with things over people, with achievements over relationships. I'm confessing that my focus has been on the what, instead of on the why. I'm surprised, always, by how much knowing why I'm doing what I'm doing affects my happiness levels. The goal is not happiness, granted. But happiness is nice, when it's available. And two quick reframing questions offer lots in the way of happiness and satisfaction: "Am I loving God? Am I loving people?"

That's where I'm leaving things, as 2016 barrels toward us all. Loving God, loving people, played out in a hundred-thousand different ways. There's still space for the doing, the dreaming, the goal-setting. We've got lots of plans, baby. (After all, there are pyramids to see, and houses to videotape for insurance purposes.)

But I'm painting it on a giant canvas and hanging it in my room, my two goals for this year:

God + People.

(+ brushing the kids' teeth. Tell me everyone else brushes their kids' teeth religiously? It's like Chinese torture over here, epic mega-battles every single night. So get ready, kids. I'm doing it because I love you.)

Happy New Year!

Love,

Sherah

What I Learned in 2015

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Dear Sherah,

This year was a doozy, which is a cute word to describe a not-at-all cute year. Beautiful, yes. Gut wrenching, yes. Full off love and heartbreak, yes. But cute? No no no. Over the past couple of months, I've been really anxious to leave 2015 behind me. Every difficult thing that happens, from a car problem to a thrown-out back, is yet another piece of evidence that this year needs to be over and done. (Did I tell you that I tripped this past week and have been walking with a limp? I mean, really. Let's be done.) I've started making lists of hopes and dreams for 2016—intentions I have, books I want to read, changes I want to make, the person I want to become. I'm ready to move on. 

But this morning as I was getting ready for the day, I looked in the mirror and realized that I was looking at a different face than the one I saw a year ago. And suddenly I felt a rush of gratitude for this beautiful, gut wrenching, lovely, heartbreaking, limp-y, doozy of a year. 

So here, before the resolutions for 2016, are some reflections on what I learned in 2015. 

In 2015, I learned the difference between lifeless expectations and my true values. When I abandoned the expectations, I felt free; when I lived outside of my true values, I felt unstable. I'm leaving this year more clear about what's real, what's important, and who I want to be. 

I learned that the difference between "living life for God" and "living life with God" is the difference between anxiety and peace, disillusionment and hope. I learned that who I am is far more important than what I do. I'm leaving 2015 with less fear over doing everything right and more desire to discover true, abundant life with Jesus. 

I learned the value of professional help. In addition to the hours of therapy I went through this year for emotional healing, I also found a fantastic estestician, stuck to a skincare system, and am leaving 2015 free of the acne I've suffered with for fourteen years. Just because you haven't been able to break free of something for a long time doesn't mean that the story can't change. But it probably means you need to stop trying to DIY and find some real help. 

I discovered I like how I look in nose rings, skinny jeans, the color red, and tattoos, which I think means I'm leaving 2015 cooler than I entered it. 

In a year of painfully difficult marital relationships and story-lines, including my own, I suspended a lot of what I've held to be true about marriage. I learned no person or love is stagnant, that people and loves will most certainly change, and that if you're married to someone who's willing to change with you and build a new relationship when the old one dies, you've been given a true gift that you should protect and honor with your life. I'm walking into 2016 less judgmental of other people's marriages and more grateful and determined for my own. 

I learned that if you are certain about most things in life, I can respect you but I probably can't be friends with you. The people who my soul recognizes as true friends are curious, questioning, wondering, learning, changing, and hopeful. They regularly form new opinions and are passionate about the things they really care about. I'm walking into 2016 with more appreciation for my friends and a sharper vision for the people I want to find and surround myself with.

I learned that "regret is a tough but fair teacher." 

That "only when we know our own darkness well can we be present with the darkness of others." 

That "not one of us gets through life without expressing desperate, messy, and uncivilized need." 

(And a crap-load of other things from Brene Brown, one of my new true loves from 2015.)

I learned that I really, truly love being a mom, that it's every bit as important as everyone says, and that believing it's the most important thing I'm doing doesn't mean it's the only important thing I'll ever do. I'm leaving 2015 ready to embrace yet another new season of motherhood, whatever that may be.  

I learned to memorize some of my priorities. Even after years of consistent positive reinforcement, I still sometimes get confused. Reading a book with my kid is always better than writing. Writing is always better than doing dishes. Sleeping is always better than watching TV. Sex is always better than sleeping. Stuff like that. 

I learned that the only thing more naive than trusting other people to carry my stuff is thinking I'm smart enough and strong enough to go at life alone. The former is always a risk; the latter is a certain way to fail or be miserable. 

I've learned that restoration is better than giving up on people, that grace is better than holding people to their mistakes, and that sometimes letting go is the restorative and graceful thing to do.

I learned, in a deeply experiential way, the most beautiful quote I read all year:

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So here I am: clearer, freer, more myself, less fearful, more determined, less judgmental, better rested, and more alive. All because of a year that I would describe as the hardest year of my life. Makes me wonder what to hope for and expect in 2016, you know? Or maybe it means I'm ready to let go of my expectations and dive in, heart and hands open. 

I bless you with big and beautiful things in the year to come, my friend. Thanks for writing through this year with me when we could have been doing the dishes.

And now, dishes.

Love,

Joy