Shadowy Residue

Dear Friend,

This arbitrary line we’ll cross over at midnight seems thick with promises, weighty with expectation. I hear beliefs and hope placed in a day or moment, champagne on ice ready to heal the year’s wounds with cheers and glitter. Wouldn’t it be nice for a day to save us? 

We live in a disposable society where we desperately want to throw away 2020 and never look back. In this disposable society we toss out years, people, life, faith, stuff like garbage, hoping to flee from the trauma or bury the pain in the dirt—making a landfill out of it all. But friends, nothing really goes away. Everything we toss out goes somewhere, hidden in the shadows. We bring the garbage we tossed out with us, like residue gummed within. This is agitating because we cannot change the yesterdays, but the residue can inform tomorrow. Who you’ve been this year will still be true tomorrow. You are still you and midnight won’t change that. (Just to let you know, it seems you’ve been more adaptable, fierce, strong, sensitive, and kind than you thought you could be, so I’m assuming tomorrow will be the same. And the residue won’t kill you even when it feels like it might). 

But friend, not everything about this year should be tossed out and not everything is garbage. There have been agitations I’m holding tightly to even while my foundation felt unstable: new recipes, less hustle, slower mornings with my kids, movie marathons, hiking trails in the county I live in, exploring race and racism and white privilege/supremacy with my kids, worshiping with other faith communities, attending uplifting conferences I could never travel to, attending work conferences I never wanted to travel to, intimate weddings, less carbon footprint, sourdough. There are some agitating and transforming things about this year I never want to toss out. 

The agitation is good and right. When life is agitating, when situations and circumstances and job and faith and relationships are agitating, I pay attention to it all differently. I can’t slink out of it and leave it all behind, as much as I sometimes wish I could.

The agitation forces me to reevaluate and meditate on what really matters. I began to recognize the wounds Christ bore on the cross, the suffering and pain he held, became the scars he wore later. His shadowy residue became my salvation. By His wounds, I found saving. The agitation from this year helped me see that the wounds of before become the scars of tomorrow. This is what really matters to me.

What agitating parts of this year have forced you to reevaluate what really matters? What are you thankful to take with you into your tomorrows? What shadowy residue you wish you could toss out is actually helping inform your tomorrows? 

May the Creator of yesterday, today, and all tomorrows be with you, both now and forevermore in Christ Jesus.

With (love),
Bethany