(photo source: my amazing and super uber talented husband)
My dearest Jesus,
I'm about to burst with thankfulness for all the dreams you've made come true for me this year, for all the blessings I didn't deserve but you gave me anyway, for loving me so relentlessly. Your grace has carried me. Your arms have comforted me. Your words have spurred me on.
I've been surprised by you.
The gentle way you lead me. The patience you have with my shortcomings. The way you teach me...oh, the way you teach me. Over and over again. That you are not angry with me. You're not disappointed with me. You love me just the way I am. And you've told me it just like that.
I think I'm finally getting it.
Something has been happening in my heart. When you correct me in that undeniable love of yours, I used to wallow in self-pity and shame. I used to feel a keen disappointment, as though I had let you down. But oh how you've been freeing me. Your grace flowing sweetly, enabling me to change.
Two thousand eleven glistens with promise, all shiny and new and untarnished. And I have resolved not to blemish it's prospects by adding resolutions well short of it's luster.
You know I am one of those sorts who are sometimes afraid to aim high because I fear falling far below the mark.
But if you are the mark, Jesus, then how can I fail?
I can only soar.
My one resolution this year will be to love you more fervently, to know you more deeply, to follow you more closely.
Hand in your hand.
Your heart leading the way.