I’m not one for New Year’s resolutions.

We don’t need a new year to change something about ourselves. And what good is it to burden ourselves with such grand resolutions when we don’t truly intend on keeping them?

I’m not saying I don’t like the idea of change, resolutions are great, but they mustn’t stay resolutions, they must become habit, something we make part of our lives.

All that being said, this post (as you may have gathered) is not about my New Year’s resolutions.

This is a goodbye, a reflection I suppose, on 2018 and all that it entailed.

Twenty Eighteen

You weren’t easy. Not in the slightest. But you were beautiful.

You brought me a book I know will remain my favorite forever. You introduced me to new movies, new musicals, new stories – stories that continue to grow me and challenge me.

You brought me my first completed book. You were the year my writing blossomed and took on it’s own personality.

You brought me wonderful teachers and difficult ones. I’m grateful for both. My history teacher nor my english teacher mightn’t never know their impact, but those two taught me more about the world from their lessons than any teacher before.

And yet, so did the difficult teachers. I didn’t always agree with them, and that strengthened my own beliefs and taught me compassion. Not that I always was compassionate. I had to muddle through pride and deep annoyance before I learned to see them as human – the same fallible creature as I. Animosity is not an answer.

You brought new friendships and strengthened the old. You taught me when to let go and to hold on. You reminded me the importance of family and fellowship.

You gave me new memories to cherish if my family before I head off on my own. You made it clear to me just how much they matter. How much love they have for me as I for them. You drew me closer to those God gave to me than any years before. These aren’t only family, my siblings and my parents are my friends.

For all that you’ve done for me, I can’t say that this year has made me the best I can be.

And that’s not the fault of Providence.

It’s mine.

A neglected tendency to cynicism deepened and ate at me. And I suppose that’s my doing. I didn’t pull those weed-like thoughts and feelings when they began.

My emotions often swelled and crashed, without good reason. I’ve learned how important emotion is, and yet how ridiculous it can be.

I’m more serious than I was before, a result of the poetry and art I fill myself with. But seriousness is not severity, not if I don’t let it be. Art gave me not only a somber face, but a keener eye for beauty. It taught me to look for poetry in the ordinary.

I hope I’m wiser. Less foolish than before.

I know that I’ve learned, and that you, 2018, were a year of such growth.

I feel that everyday I’m becoming more of the person I will be, and yet I don’t know what I’ll do with myself yet. There’s still so much to learn. So much trust in the Lord that needs to be found.

This year, I want to put my hands in Jesus’s and let him lead me where he will.