Great Expectations

As we traveled to my parent's house for Christmas, skidding along icy roads and coming across over-turned vehicles,

I quickly became annoyed, jumpy, and irritable. I would snap at Ryan for nothing, and couldn't handle any kind of fuss from the small people in the back seat. I was anxious, gripping my door handle and intently watching the road in front of us.

As I sat there playing back-seat driver, I started to think about something a friend and I were talking about recently. My friend said that she's sometimes blown away by how quickly we age, and yet how slow we are to grow up.

We carried on then, laughing about all the physical changes taking place, scorning our naive presumption that we'd always have flat stomachs and zero wrinkles. Then we laughed at ourselves a bit more as we admitted how often, despite our sagging bodies, we feel like we're still eighteen. We both admitted that sometimes we feel like that young girl, not ready to grasp life's lessons, to evolve as individuals, or to mature into a person who lives the things she knows and believes.

As Ryan and the boys and I drove West for Christmas this year, the roads continued to get worse, a result of a strong wind pulling the drifts across our path. I thought about how I had expected our trip to go along smoothly. After all, I had prepared. I brought along a multitude of snacks, books, and even a DVD player to keep the kids happy. So when things started to get a bit slippery, I acted like a toddler, frustrated and egocentric, having a bit of a fit right there in my passenger seat.

And then (oh no), it happened again. My mind started to whirl, reminding me of how often I act like a juvenile in the face of life's struggles, big and small. I have all the peace in the world, and still I completely lose my ability to act as if that peace even exists at all within the daily grind.

I'm always aware of this behavior. Like a person split in two, I float around the room, watching the irritable crank of a lady I become. And when I float around, watching me, I start along a familiar path, a road with winds that bluster across my face and steal my breath, whispering "When are you going to get it right?"

I've finally begun to realize that these voices only lead me to a steep, uphill climb, forcing me to strive at finding my self worth, and leaving me empty-handed every time.

On this particular snowy trip home, for the first time, I stopped dead in my tracks and made a decision to be patient with myself. I pulled my hood over my head to fight the winds, so to speak. It was only then that I could I see the light glimmering through the trees, taking a moment to fill my lungs with fresh air. The air of grace. The air of mercy. The only kind of air that can make it possible to keep plodding along through the snowdrifts of life.

Some changes happen slowly. They are the ones that take a lifetime to master no matter how badly I want to rush them.

It's good to make resolutions, to strive toward being the person I imagine myself to be. But if I fail, it's important to remember there's a process. It's important to believe that I can always continue down my road, even if I'm the one making it a bit slippery here and there. I may pummel off into the ditch every now and again, but there's never a dead end. A detour? Sure. But no, never a dead end.

It's the first day of 2009. A fresh slate, a time-marker. I resolve to make a couple of resolutions that matter to me, and to believe that I can fulfill them. I also resolve to be more patient with myself if I fail. In that acceptance, I'm free to start again, realizing that it's human to fail, and just as human to begin anew, no matter what the date.

Peace in the New Year, friends.

Posted on Thursday, January 1, 2009