I held out on writing my December blog post because I just wasn’t feeling ~inspired~ enough. In the chaos that is all too characteristic of this age, by the time I finally did feel a spark of inspiration, my computer was in California, being repaired at the Apple factory (or headquarters?? Or… something?). So here we are. At the advent of a new year, with nothing to report.
Because of this, my December post and my January post will be its own little anthology, a two-part collection of separate yet complimentary pieces. These were written together, and are intended to be enjoyed as such.
The month of January is named for the Roman god Janus, which is a piece of lore I had learned in my 6th grade Latin class, then promptly forgotten. I was lucky enough to be reminded of this fact by Bruce, our mid-year retreat facilitator (and so much more!). But we’re not at that point of the story yet. In Latin, the word janus also means doorway. “Capital J” Janus is the deity who oversees beginnings and endings, transitions and time. He is believed to have two faces: the face of a young man looking forward, and the face of an old man looking back. It is from this Janus that we derive the word “January.” It is from this lens that I will attempt to reflect on this past year and the year to come.
I am the oldest I have ever been and the youngest I will ever be.
I’m already 22??? Sometimes I see groups of middle schoolers wreaking havoc at a Target or something, and think “oh, that was me two years ago.” And hours later, I’ll still be thinking about it, only to realize that this was in fact me, TEN years ago. At the same time, I find myself at work, and I know Nothing. They probably don’t trust me with Anything. I’m the butt of all the jokes about being “the baby” of the office. There’s so much still for me to learn, and so much life left to live. I’m only 22???
I have this journal called “one line a day,” and that’s exactly what it is. I write one line, every day, for five years. I’ve had it for about a year now, and while it’s cute to look back and see what I was doing each day, it’s real intrigue is in the story it tells not by the day, but by the year. I thought I was happy last year. And I probably was. But it pales in comparison to the exuberance and lust I have for life now. My relationships were sweet last year, but fade into the background against the fullness of love that has infiltrated every corner of my world now. Not a day passes apart from the backdrop of God’s goodness – it’s colored everything.
The real intrigue of spiritual healing is that “slow work is fast to God.” I don’t remember who told me that (Mary Ellen? David Spickard?), but I think about it every single day when I write in my journal. We don’t get to see our healing in the day to day, but in the years we get to see that He is doing a new thing in us.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow
Madelyn