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How to have a truly happy new year.

For the first time in years, I don’t remember my New Year’s resolution from January. Usually, I write it down in my journal or on a note I stick to my mirror. There’s been many of those dog-eared sticky notes from years past. The year of contentment. Speaking life. We passed pancakes across the breakfast table on January 1st this year. “What do you want from 2018?” I can’t remember my answer. I know what I didn’t want though. I didn’t want to walk into her office and share the parts of my life I’m inclined to hide. I didn’t want to Facetime her the day after she delivered her baby that never breathed. I didn’t want to spend four months wondering how I’d walk into her house on Christmas day and see her empty chair. I didn’t want to go on another first date that led nowhere. We sit across from each other in a little coffee shop in Colorado, picking at a charcuterie board. “When I think about all of the things I have left to go through,” her voice cracks....
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Fear is Gripped by Fear

The two of them return to the campsite, eyes wide.

“The canoe has been moved,” they tell us.

We all stand around the picnic table in the center of the propane lamp’s glow. I grip the fishing knife in my sweater pocket, thinking the canoe could not have moved by itself. I feel vulnerable in the light and my mind starts playing high speed games with the shadows.

We cook the spaghetti nervously, dismissing the subject. She tries to make a lighthearted comment and we all laugh accommodatingly.

We go to bed and I wake an hour later, voices outside the tent. My whole body quivers as my muscles tense. I hear something slide across the end of the tent and I’m shaking her shoulder but she won’t wake up.

Fear has got me in its vice grip.

The voices fade and I remember again the story I taught in Sunday School a few weeks before about the invisible army of angels surrounding the enemy army. God is unshakable and I am in Him. I fall asleep right away.

Fear runs away with his tale between his legs.


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