I’ve spent days trying to find the words. I forgot again that it’s up to me to choose them. I forgot that they don’t need to be perfect. I forgot that the words don’t need to be lyrical to be valid. I forgot that there are no perfect words. Perfection would be terrible anyway.
On this birthday eve, I choose to christen the year to come with these words.
There is grace and self-compassion for the roads taken and the roads not taken. For the bankruptcy that will take another two plus years to pay. For the abortion more than seven years past. For broken friendships. For the yet-to-be spoken. For all that I’m holding onto and all that I’ve let go of.
For what has come before, a benediction: it is what it is. There is grace.
As life beats on into another year, an invocation: May I be more and more who I am and less and less who I’m not. May I continue to learn. May I continue to realize wellness. May I lean in to the hard places. May I be resilient. May I be mindful. May this year be rich with meaning, whimsy, and adventure. May I set and enforce healthy boundaries. May grace and compassion abound.