Thy Kingdom Come, Thy Will Be Done

I cracked open a new journal on January 1st – the fourth in a series of five culminating with my 40th birthday. Out of habit, as I walked to shelve journal number three, I flipped back to January 1, 2020 to read the entry. And I started to laugh. “Hard to believe that it’s here – 2020. Such a cool year, and I probably have way too many unrealistic expectations for it.”

I vaguely remember some of those expectations before the waves of last year swept them away with the changing of each tide. The year we were taking our son back to his birth country for the first time since his adoption. The year I would hustle hard in my business and increase my income. The year all five of us would visit family in England. The year all three kids would be at different schools, and I’d officially be a high school mom. The year I would start writing with regularity.

Not one of those things happened. 

Not only did we not travel to Africa, we barely left our home for months on end. My business hustle ended as soon as I became unemployed due to county restrictions. Instead of highschool, we began homeschool. And while you’d think this would have all afforded me more time to write, my three year journaling streak ended in July with my mind too preoccupied to form a complete thought. 

All too quickly, the realization came how much I presumed control over my life. It took much longer for me to begin to live without the self-determining ideals that crept into my ethos without my even acknowledging I allowed them entrance. 

After repenting of trust in myself that stealthily infiltrated my trust in God, my white-knuckled grip on my expectations loosened making it possible to begin this year in an entirely different posture than any year prior. 

2021 – palms open, heart bowed –  give me this day my daily bread.   

#rhythmwriting2021