Have you ever heard that what you do on New Year’s (Day or Eve, I’m not sure which) you’ll do the rest of the year? If there’s any truth to that, I’ll be stranded half-dressed out in the cold throughout 2018.
On New Year’s Day I headed to Mass full of hope and good intentions while the children slept. About five miles from home, my vehicle’s engine overheated. This had happened once before back in October while getting the kids from school. And like before, I eventually managed to coast my vehicle to the parking lot that adjoins my neighborhood. Again, I began to walk home. But unlike the brisk fall day’s chill that chided me for not having a jacket, the morning of January 1st was a frigid 17 degrees when I set out for the 2-mile walk. Thankfully, I learned my lesson the first time and had a coat, but I was wearing a dress - with no nylons, no hat, no scarf, no gloves – I may as well been in Nome, Alaska.
I called the house to have my husband pick me up, but he took his sweet time. My brain was too frozen to let anger build beyond the surface, which at this point was like a skating pond, when I discovered he made himself a cup of coffee before leaving to get me. He redeemed himself by building me a nice fire to sit beside once we returned home so my thighs could thaw.
My word for the year is HOPE.
“…hope that is seen is no hope at all.
I was thankful to have received this word just the day before as I prayed prior to the priest’s homily, a.k.a. message. I asked the Lord what my word should be for the year and it flashed in my mind quickly, in big block letters. So HOPE it is.
Somehow, that simple word gave me comfort as I first sat stranded along the side of the country road, with the ignition off, hoping that the engine would cool faster than my body so I could soon venture closer to home. My heart and mind filled with hope, knowing that all would be o.k.
I needed this word at the forefront of my mind when less than a week before I called the doctor’s office to request my biopsy results. To give you a little background, a transvaginal ultrasound revealed some “questionable” results, so my doc recommended a hysterectomy. I didn’t like the recommendation, so we agreed to an endometrial biopsy to hopefully rule out uterine cancer. He said the results would be in “next week” – that was Dec. 21st.
I had peace from the beginning and wasn’t anxious about the wait. I could wait one week for the findings. But when I called the office six days later (close enough to a week) and the woman on the other end of the line informed me that results for that particular biopsy take 3 weeks to receive, and possibly longer due to the holidays, my heart sank. I became despondent as I got off the phone. Three weeks? REALLY? I could wait one, but not three... But why not?
After allowing myself to wallow in my frustration for about thirty minutes, it’s as if the Lord asked me, “Do you really believe in my goodness?” Ugh...I conceded...yes, I do. I knew I needed to place my trust in the Lord with the timing, with the outcome, with my heart in the waiting. I needed HOPE…hope in what I didn’t already have (results) and to wait for it patiently. None of us like to wait, do we? After my resolve to trust and not despair, I immediately felt better and haven’t been concerned with it since.
My wish for 2018 is that my hope (and joy) will continue to grow and flourish as I learn to trust in the Lord with each new day, whatever it brings. Privately, I may also pine after a new car in hopes that I’m never again stranded outside when it’s below twenty degrees.
Happy New Year!
Funny that the title "Author" appears above this description yet I have no idea what to share about myself in this space! How about my first name is Kim. My last name is Tisor. Tisor rhymes with miser, though I try not to be one.
For more information about me, please visit the author page.