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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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An Unwanted Message: Hope

He stands there on the half-wall, under the yellow glow of a streetlight. We’re shivering as we listen, as we pray, as we offer people gospel tracts. The cold bites through our layers and colours our finger tips white.
           
He yells out the gospel and the crowds laugh and point at him as they cross the street, wearing their hockey jerseys. He could be Paul standing up there if it were two thousand years ago and the snow was dust. He quotes Romans 1:20 and then shouts, “You know there is a God!”

A girl in a dress snorts before she steps into the cab, “God is dead.” I watch the red tail lights of the taxi fade into the darkness.

He stands there, talking with his hands. He looks like a traffic director. This is the last crossroads before hell and he’s pointing people the other way, to the path of Joy and Life.
            
A group of guys swagger directly underneath the preacher, “Let’s push him off, boys.” One of them laughs. But they move on, chuckling.

            
I think of Paul and where the preaching of the cross led him: to martyrdom. While the snowflakes land on my nose, I ask myself if I’m really willing to give up my earthly life to follow the path of the cross. The golden streets and the pearly gates and God: the final destination. My heart can give only one answer and there’s no turning back once you’ve found Hope. 

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