em·bark: verb \im-ˈbärk\:  to make a start

I am not one for New Years resolutions.

Ha.  Yeah, right.

I am the queen of resolutions.  Or I used to be.  Every year on December 31st, I’d write down a long list of ’em.  Sometimes I was good at keeping them.  Most of the time I wasn’t, not because I was lacking in commitment or resolve, but simply because I forgot to remember them.

This year, I took the forgetfulness a step further and forgot to create the list all together.  I blew past my self-imposed deadline and thus launched into this new year utterly  resolution-less.  (Granted, it is possible to make resolutions on January 2nd, but it feels like cheating ’cause you’ve already missed a day.  How can you resolve not to swear if you’ve spent January 1st in a flurry of F-bombs?)

It was liberating at first.  And then it was terrifying.  By 6pm on January 2nd, I was scrambling to come up with something, anything, that I could resolve to do in 2011.  In 2010, it was “write a novel by May 1st!,” “blog every day!” and “stop consuming artificial sweetners!” But nothing felt right this year.  Or, rather, nothing I could come up with felt like the thing I’m supposed to be doing.  Because there is something — many somethings, so many somethings — I’m supposed to be chasing after this year, I just can’t quite figure out what those somethings are.  Read the Bible more.  Pray.  Keep writing every day.  Write something new.  Do something new and scary and challenging.  Try to be a good mom.  Fail and try again.  Sell my book.  Spend more time thinking and not doing.  Spend more time with my husband.  Spend less time with my screen.  Write more.

And now it’s January 6th and all I have is the list I just wrote.  It’s ambitious and probably too vague to be a proper list of goals but it’s all I’ve got so it’ll have to do.

Here’s to being better versions of ourselves this year, starting with this day.  And starting over again tomorrow if we need to, whether it’s January 1st or 6th or March 4th or August 9th.

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