2020 has arrived, not so much with a bang but with a definite knock-the-breath-out-of-you-whoosh of certainty. Mortality hovered close in the last days of 2019. I've shared grief and pre-grief with dear friends; one funeral already celebrated and one looming somewhere on the near horizon. And I've a big birthday just a couple of sleeps away now. Sixty. How can this be? I was just twenty. Surely I've stepped into a Delorean - anybody seen a wild white-haired guy in a jumpsuit? Alas, there's been no time travel, just time traveled. And what's to do but embrace and press forward - hanging on to the good and letting go the not-so. Ever mindful that there will come a day when the preacher sits with my family to figure out what's to be said of me - pray it's distant. Live as though it's just around the corner. Squared shouldered and ready - as if there were an alternative - bring it on, 2020. Armed with a healthy dose of reality and a (prayer) bowl full of hope, I've set a new word for the year. Already it's shifted course a few times, what I thought it should be has morphed into what it needs to be. My word: Honor.
I began to think about my 2020 word in early December as I led a round-table discussion for work. I shared the new-to-some concept of choosing one word as a focal point for the year with a group of colleagues from a wide range of backgrounds and locations. I had a word all picked out to share as an example of sorts. It was a good word, and similar - Care. But the day before that meeting, I stumbled across "honor" in multiple totally unrelated places and knew it was the better word. The word. Honor is the weighty sister of care. And I am, after all, a weighty sister. (wink,wink)
Honor. The definition is lofty. High respect; great esteem; keen sense of ethical conduct; regarded as a rare opportunity bringing pride and pleasure; a privilege; a gesture of deference; a person or thing that brings credit to another; a woman's chastity or reputation for being chaste. The list goes on. And it's a good, if daunting, list. Worthy of a year's focus and more. But what began as a word to use as template for how I hope to treat others this year has turned into something even more challenging. Seven days in and it's already twisted and looped and spun in an unexpected direction. I was all prepared to show honor to others - but I've been convicted that I rarely show that same respect to myself. Maybe it's just me - or my age or my raising or my gender - but there's something deeply ingrained that equates self-care with selfishness. And being selfish is wrong. Right? I mean it's in the Bible and all. And I can tell countless tales of self-less, admirable behaviors witnessed up close and personal. Beatrice, my Mama and hero, was the most unselfish person I've ever known. She once waited to schedule a major and much needed surgery to make sure it was convenient for me. She had my Daddy convinced that her favorite part of the chicken was the neck so he would eat the good pieces. There is no meat on a chicken neck - just saying. Those are the genes I carry around - diluted, but still strong.
So begins the year and so begins the struggle to add myself to the list of those to whom I will show honor. Somewhere down from God but no longer at the bottom or left off. With hopes of surfing the tension between God-centric-others-focused living and somehow appropriately treating myself as a beloved daughter of this One who's been there from before the first breath. Think I'll start out by celebrating, really celebrating what I have dreaded. Sixty. Owning and yes, honoring, every moment, year and decade; every wrinkle, grey hair and pound. Appointments and reservations have been set for a clean house, fresh hair cut, long-awaited dinner at Chef and the Farmer, and a one-hour-massage. (One minute per year seems a reasonable amount of indulgence, yes?) And then a year to come with small nods to the worthiness of self-honor, more or less. More apples, less chips. More walks, less recliner. More kindness, less demand. More celebration, less expectation. More, ever more, love and much more practice at becoming Honor-Able.
You, my friends who read the words wrenched from my tight little heart, are most honored. I offer you my very best wishes for every good thing in the year ahead. Grace and peace be upon you in shocking abundance. Hoping you, too, find yourselves Honor-Able. Selah.
Comments