Relax, everything’s going to be all right; rest, everything’s coming together; open your hearts, love is on the way!
- Jude 2

On this eve of 2010, as I sit with Jason and tend to Jude (who happens to be aching with new teeth and a scratchy throat), I can’t help thinking about the gifts given to me in 2009.

The precious gift of Jude Adam. With his laughter, his smile, his wiggles, his words, even his tears, Jude has turned my black-and-whites into technicolor, made me a momma, and taught me what unconditional love really looks like.

The unwarranted gift of Grace. In her quiet and determined way, Grace stayed close to me on this leg of the journey: in every moment, every turn, every tear of joy, every cry of pain, every unsaid prayer, every question, every doubt, every whisper to Jason, every song sung to Jude, every sleepy day, every tired night, every common cup, every page of the story. All along the way, she kept casting a knowing smile at Mercy and reminding me that even the failing is good.

The supreme gift of Love. I have never given or received or seen such fierce love as I have this year. From my precious, above-and-beyond husband. From my sweet and strong son. Even from my own inconsistent heart. But, ultimately, it’s been the fiery and consuming love of my Abba that has captured me this year.

The enduring gift of Courage. Courage gave me what I can only describe as my life’s purest moment: my beautiful, unmedicated, magical labor and delivery of Jude. It has paved the way for a strength and joy and identity I never knew was possible.

The priceless gift of Brokenness. The changes. The newness. The unexpected. The failures. The gray. The mess. The contradictions. The singing off-key. The missed dance steps. The weariness and work and rest. The not-knowing. The unknown. The fight. The loss. And the falling. There’s something freeing about realizing you were never in control to begin with. And that the breaking is good.

2009 brought me closer to so many things. Closer to love and grace, courage and truth. Closer to my truest identity as Abba’s daughter. In those few and rich quiet moments (and more often in the chaos), more than anything else, this year found me praying a prayer that I’ll carry with me into the new year and always: Abba, I belong to You.

(Thanks, Brennan.)

I found several articles today at Google News saying most people aren’t making New Years’ resolutions for 2009. I’m not sure how the media knows what 300 million people are planning for next year, but I can concur that I, too, am not making a resolution this year.

I’ve never really made resolutions, but the difference this year is that I don’t feel guilty about my resolution-less entry into 2009.  In fact, I didn’t give one single thought to a resolution until I skimmed aforementioned Google News.

What I did decide was this: Rather than resolve to do anything, I’m going to be about listening this year. Specifically, listening to the voice that calls me Beloved. Because simply receiving my name, my deepest identity, and knowing the One who sings it over me, is far better than any of my meager, grasping, halting, nagging, and selfish intentions to be good.