There is something about the ending of a new year that forces you into a place of reflection whether you want to go or not. It is like being shipped off to your grandmother’s for a hot summer in West Texas with no air conditioning; you need to be there, but it is uncomfortable. It makes you sweat. So with the ending of last year, (which I have no mourning for it’s passing. Tap dancing on it’s grave.) I was in this place. You recognize things about yourself that you knew and forgot eleven months ago. But there is something in you that becomes insatiable for change.
Seriously, if I could make a t-shirt, “I survived 2011” and the fine print would say “barely”. So, I am excited about a new year. And with all that reflection and excitement, I found myself on an elliptical machine at the Y. It was packed. Driving into the parking lot, I was tempted to hit reverse and do some amazing movie like driving seen in only Bourne movies. (Which would have been sort of funny in a minivan). However, I parked and braved the masses.
I need to loose weight. Sort of the reality of the life. But it was the beginning of the year and I was supper reflective. I was on this machine, keeping a good pace. I was listening to my fantastic music, trying to make it all look effortless. The first problem is that I am not in great physical shape. I am an emotion eater, not an emotional runner. The second problem is that I am mildly ADD (don’t roll your eyes), so I was distracted. The good news is that I didn’t fall. In the art of observation, I saw all different types of people. All ages, races, and resistance settings. It was so hard to focus really because I wanted to watch them.
I had this realization amidst the sweat and anxiety. Some of them are the dedicated few that wear “Live Strong” bracelets. They get this world because it is their world. They have claimed it for the previous twelve months. Then there are the rest of us that, because of the newness of the year and the commitment to resolutions (no matter how fickle), have found themselves in the throws of the Y, like treading on the mills of foreign soil. But we are here for the same reason; we want to change. We want to claim life. And there is something hopeful in even having the desire to change. The hope that we could change, that change is even possible, drags people out of bed and asks them to take a jog.
So, the Y on the first week of January is this hopeful place. And hope is new, just like everything else with a new year. So, I though I would take it for a run. Regardless of where we find a hope for change, we are inspired by it. We hope that both sides of government will just get along. We hope that we can be kinder people. We hope that we will love well the people that we love the most. We hope that we will understand God more. We hope that the sick would be well. We hope that we would be better parents. You see this hope in places of worship, in schools, in homes, and yes even in the Y. It makes you want to live in hope as a location, as Tim Keel would say. At the very least, it makes you want to take hope for a jog, and maybe what we loose is the weight of cynicism that we have lived in the rest of the year. I need to loose that weight. It is certainly the reality of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment