For a long time, I resisted making new year’s resolutions. I’m not sure why. I enjoy lists and goal setting. Maybe it was because, as a teacher, August marked the new year and season for starting over. I live with a man who loves new year’s resolutions. I used to joke about how much I loved January John. He was the most healthy, helpful, and punctual guy I’d ever known!
Then February would come.
But I envied the gusto he brought to each new year so much that I got on the bandwagon. And I learned that just like everything else we do, we do it very differently.
I approach new year’s resolutions like a road map. I write down my goals, think about the steps it will take to get there, and mark particular checkpoints on the calendar to make sure I stay on track. I revisit them frequently to see if I’m still on the right road, taking a detour, or slowing down for construction. The resolutions I wrote 12 months ago have been on my mind all year, guiding my decisions day by day.
I’ve learned that my best friend uses resolutions like a time capsule. In preparation for our yearly retreat, he’s reviewing what he wrote for the first time in almost a year. He’s revisiting what he was thinking, feeling, and prioritizing a year ago. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as if to say, “Huh! How ‘bout that?” He holds plans loosely, faithful that God will lead us to the places we need to be.
We are different and we are both right. Intentionality keeps us focused. Freedom keeps us faithful. Truth is found in paradox.