A Gentle Surrender
This New Year’s celebration was different.
There was no music. No countdown or “Happy New Year!” when the clock struck midnight.
In the dark, I sat on my couch next to my 11- and 9-year-old sons, whose eyes had grown heavy watching the embers disappear up the chimney and who lulled to sleep listening to the fireplace crackle. Their gentle surrender to sweet rest was magical to witness, within minutes of one another and each with a sigh.
As they fell deeper into sleep, my heart began to awaken.
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For the better part of my adult life, New Year’s has always evoked a sense of dread and impending doom. Having thought about it a lot, I believe the root of this dread is linked to living through Y2K. When the clock struck midnight, 23 years ago, we feared the world as we knew it would end. As it happened, I was 23 at the time, and though I had a lot of life ahead of me, I was already engaged in an internal struggle against self-contempt and shame. Naturally, I was shaken by the thought that the world could end.
The night of 12/31/1999, I remember desperately praying that God would forgive me of all my mistakes, in the unlikely event that the world would end that night. But deep down, I wasn't sure He would. I somehow believed that I wasn't good enough, or feared I had exhausted all my chances, and was now beyond His reach. I feared He had probably grown tired of my broken promises to "never do it again" or "do better". In my fear, I believed He had scoffed at my prayers and turned His back on me.
As we all know, Y2K was not the doomsday many predicted. All of us lived another day, yet I never managed to overcome my fear of not being good enough.
Following that, while other people were making preparations to celebrate the New Year, I became obsessed with taking inventory of my missteps and shortcomings. As others counted down the seconds to ring in the New Year, I was anxiously counting down the seconds to hear my verdict. Would I be found guilty or innocent? At midnight, I would find out if I had finally been accepted or if I had to start all over again to seek His approval for the entire next year. This unending cycle had become exhausting.
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It was in this calm moment that my breathing slowed to match theirs. The usual feeling of fear had not entered my heart. In place of the empty feeling of dread in my gut, I felt grounded and held by the weight of the blankets covering me and my boys.
As the hour hand approached 12 and the minute hand reached somewhere between 9 and 10, I reflected on the year that was. As opposed to taking an inventory of my mistakes and shortcomings from this past year, I recalled the times when I'd turned toward, rather than against, myself. As I reflected on the countless times I had been forgiven, accepted forgiveness, and forgave myself, I felt a sense of warmth and comfort. I recalled the times I had felt waves of grace wash over me as I honored the strength of my younger self, and the ways she had tried to figure out the world around her. I remembered those divine moments over this past year that I felt seen and held, not just by people who have held my story, but by the Wonderful Counselor Himself.
This New Year’s celebration was different than any other year. I had finally traded the dread, fear, and anxiety of my past for the calm, safety, and peace of surrendering my future in the hands of the One who came to save my soul.
“For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace..”
Isaiah 9:6 (NLT)
