A letter

Out with the old…and morning cravings.

In Teaneck Winter on January 3, 2015 at 6:55 am

Twenty Fifteen.  Can’t believe it, and could hardly wait for it.  I have many good reasons to be excited about 2015, but it’s not as if 2014 was a dark hole, although there were some long dark spaces for sure.  Not sure why my craving for this particular new year was so ravenous.  I almost felt giddy about it.  There is just something about newness.  Something so exhilarating and liberating.  Something so clean and fresh. A palate cleanse; A window washing of the soul.  I think I was craving it because I needed it so badly.  As you know, this last chapter of our lives has been raw and taxing and life’s residue has felt thick.  The cavern between what I want to be and who I really am is large, and the distance left to travel towards dreams and goals seems endless and unknown.  I guess this is why I welcomed NEW with open arms, because I needed it.

Three days into this beautiful new year looking for newness with wide eyes, I am realizing that what I so desperately wanted has been available for quite some time. It’s a reset button I push on occasion. I didn’t have to wait until January 1st for the freedom I was craving. “His Mercies are new every morning.”  New mercies every morning?  How is it that I know about this and so seldom access it and embrace it and let it change me.  How often have I waited for the new year, or re-locating, or starting a new job, et cetera, as an excuse or ticket for a fresh start? How often do I actually open this this gift?  Not often enough, I can tell you that.  How often do I awake to His goodness, and mercy allowing it to wash me?  How often do I let it bridge that gap between what I want to be and who I really am?  Definitely not 365 days a year.  And, I can tell you one thing, that is going to change.

New years do bring about something new, but so does Jesus, daily, if I let Him.  I think that is what 2015 is going to be all about.  Opening his mercies daily.

Love and miss you dearly,

Bep

P.S.

I’m going to attempt writing you more this year.  I know, I know, you’ll wait with bated breath.

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