When I first thought about blogging, I was uncertain of it. Mostly, I couldn’t see myself coming up with the kind of consistent content a blog requires. I mean, how many times can a person write about what they did that day or what they had for dinner. Aside from food bloggers, that is. They always write about what they had for dinner.
I stand in awe of bloggers—“real” bloggers. I read other
blogs, written by stay-at-home moms, homeschool moms, working moms (I’m
assuming real moms) and they’re filled with these deep spiritual insights or clever
life hacks. Me, I got nothin’. Okay, I have a turkey pot pie in the oven right
now, and I think that’s pretty awesome, but you know what I mean. I’m the one reading about their insights and life
hacks. Meanwhile, I have only rare insights, and absolutely no life hacks.
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| I have a pot pie in the oven, and that's pretty awesome. |
Even when I start a post, it often fizzles. I started one last
week, full of medium-to-shallow insights, but then I got interrupted—kids do
that to a mom—and I was never able to return to that train of thought or that
message I was trying to communicate. It was an Advent message, so it’s a little
late now.
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| I really, really wanted to write a blog post about light in the darkness. |
The hard truth is, it was a rotten year for me. I touched on
that in that never-finished post. I wanted to write about light. As a year,
2018 has had a lot of dark places for me.
I lost a sister. The tenth anniversary of the death of my
other sister is approaching; she would have been 51 on Christmas Eve. My
husband lost two uncles and a cousin, and we suffered with prayer and fear
through the diagnosis of leukemia for another of his cousins. We had a
miscarriage. Then there were the small, day-to-day mishaps of car trouble,
financial trouble, family trouble, even dental trouble, the “thousand natural
shocks that flesh is heir to.”
This year, 2018, has been an excruciating year. As we
approached Christmas, my biggest wish is to see the backside of this year and
never have a repeat.
Not the most inspiring blog material.
In the last few days since Christmas, though, I felt like I
finally exhaled after the suspense of Advent. I wallowed in pajama-clad
idleness for a couple of days, and then—woke up. I’m ready for 2019. Not ready
as in, “Do your worst, 2019, I’m ready for you.” I’m not feeling quite that
cocky. I’m just ready to begin again.
Calendars are pretty random, if you think about it. January
1 doesn’t fall on a solstice or follow the lunar cycle or align with a
significant festival. It simply is. Yet it offers a very real opportunity to consider,
reflect, and to start anew.
Today I had the pleasure of watching a video Tauna Meyer over at Proverbial Homemaker did
on starting the new year right. She doesn’t have a blog post about it, but you
can watch the video on Facebook here.
She said several things that impressed me and put a little wind in my sails,
but the first and most important was the idea of a Yahweh Yireh box. (We
pronounced it Jehovah Jireh when I was growing up, but I suspect her
pronunciation and spelling are more accurate.) Yahweh Yireh is one of the names
of God and stems from Genesis 22:14. It means “God will provide.” The idea is
to record blessing, answered prayer, and every other act of God’s provision
throughout the year and then read them at the next new year to remind yourself
of all God has done. It stands as an Ebenezer to all God has done. (I know we’re
close to Christmas, but I’m not talking about Scrooge. The word comes from 1
Samuel 7:12. “Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen
and called its name Ebenezer; for he said, ‘Till now the Lord has helped us.’”
I love that idea. I have a feeling that if I had a Yahweh
Yireh box this past year, a symbol of how God has provided and helped us till
now, it would be easier to see the light. I wanted to act on this idea. I didn’t
have a wooden box, and I’m about 70 miles from the nearest Hobby Lobby or other
craft store, so I used a jar I had on hand. It’s not fancy, but it doesn’t
matter. It’s there, sitting on my counter so that, moving forward, I will look
for the light, for the moments of gratitude, for the Ebenezers in my life.
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| My Yahweh Yireh box is more of a jar, but the idea remains the same. |
I guess maybe this turned into a real blog post after all.
However, my children are fighting, and my five-year-old is crying, so it’s time
to dole out hugs and kisses and pull that pot pie out of the oven.
Have a blessed and happy new year as you look forward to new
beginnings—and look back to celebrate all Yahweh Yireh has done for you.
