When I was in public school, probably the fourth or fifth grade, I posted my New Year's resolutions on my bedroom wall. I liked the look of an extensive list of honorable intentions hanging above my bed, the two-page manifesto pasted on balloon-shaped construction paper that coordinated with the pretty blue and pink hearts on the wallpaper.
I wish I could remember them all.
I can't recall if it was the innocence and optimism of youth or the pride of sounding mature that had me committing to praying for missionaries, putting others first and sharing Jesus with my friends so publicly. I don't have the courage to be so bold now. Maybe I fear failure. Or the lure of the unrealistic. I don't know. But my attempts to define any sort of resolutions this year have thus far been in vain.
Two or three years ago, I wrote a list of things I wanted to do within the year. The goals were superficial. They were written by an insecure little girl masquerading as a woman. And when the year-end came, very little was checked off.
I am determined to come up with something this year. Something challenging. Something that will have me literally sweating (I bought gym clothes over the holidays) and figuratively growing (creatively). So maybe that's two things. Or more. And I want them measurable. Too vague and I'll find a witty way to excuse myself into false accomplishment.
Maybe I'll post them here. For accountability. And then maybe I'll delete them. For fun.
And at 25, spiritual growth isn't really a construction-paper check-marked goal anymore. It's a day-to-day adventure. I'd rather live it than scrawl it on my wall.
Perhaps I should dust off the old Bucket List....