Happy New Year’s Eve

Hope is the masterstroke of Midnight that rings of newness in the darkness of yesteryear.

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. I will likely continue my tradition of going to bed early in flannel pajamas and socks after eating pizza or Chinese take out with family and perhaps a couple of close friends.

It’s how I like to do it. I’ve tried the, go to church and pray in the New Year, deal. The problem is that I end up sleeping with my eyes open and then freak out people with what my kids call, “Mom’s Zombie look.” A confetti covered Zombie getting woken up at Midnight with noisemakers is not exactly my idea of exciting. I will wake instead when the dogs bark from fireworks in the neighborhood. At least I will be snuggled in bed with my favorite pillow and piles of blankets. My husband will come home after church, kiss me on my head as I quietly snore, and tell me Happy New Year. I may or may not remember, but I know it will happen.

What is it about New Year’s Eve that demands attention? The calendar changes. Resolutions are made. We say goodbye to the old and embrace the new. It is worth celebrating. Yet, something in me resists.

Perhaps it was the years of Midnight Hours when darkness mocked the coming light. Perhaps it was the seasons of hope, against hope, against hope, all piled up one after the other like dominos. Perhaps it was the day in and day out conversations with God at my desk where I lined the walls with dream boards like stars shining against a black sky.

I grew to love the Midnight Hour as an Olympic Champion who defied the opponent’s jeers to quit running, quit dreaming, quit believing, and throw in the towel. It was at these times I would ponder… Hope is the masterstroke of Midnight that rings of newness in the darkness of yesteryear.

Maybe I do love New Year’s Eve, not because it is a magical day, but perhaps because it is how I do life. There is something about lifting my voice and singing praise to God in the Midnight Hour that causes chains to break and prison doors to open. To me, it’s not a moment on a clock so much as it’s a simple life well lived. A contented life… so contented… I’d rather be in bed on New Year’s Eve with a belly full of Chinese take out, while dogs bark from fireworks, and I get a kiss on my head that I may or may not remember. Still, it will happen.

The next day I will awake. I will have sung praises to God in the darkness, and I will rejoice because the light of a new day finally arrived. Then I will start all over again. What a beautiful life!

Happy New Year! 

Mary

I wrote this post on New Year’s Eve 2018. It still rings true in 2021 ❊