Two times of year cause me to reflect: January and September. But let's forget about January. I've never met a resolution I liked-- or kept-- and I don't like being told what to do, though for pure entertainment, being told what to do can hardly be beat. As I read articles about losing weight, meeting one's soulmate or landing the perfect job, I feel smug and ornery: That would never work! How stupid! No way!
But September is another story. For many years it was the real beginning of a new year. New classes (though most schools begin in August now), new shoes, new teachers and friends. New Sunday School department. New, new, new. Having a September birthday gave the month even more importance. I'm sixteen now! Things will be different!
When our first baby was born on the first day of September, it seemed only appropriate. Finally things were going to be different. I really did have new goals, and I didn't need Parent magazine to tell me what they were. I probably couldn't have articulated them beyond the basic concepts of protect, take care of, and nurture, but I began understanding "new" in a way I never had before.
And so today begins another September. The baby lives hundreds of miles away. Most of my memories have little to do with her current reality, or even with my own. I remember watching her learn to walk, and now she's training for a marathon. I, on the other hand, am contemplating natural remedies for arthritic knees! What hasn't changed for me is the sweet wistfulness, the prayerful longing, and the passion for the journey I began on the day she came into my world.