Let me tell you something about 2023

My annual New Years resolution performance review

Today, Kel and I were taking an afternoon walk up Locust Creek, usually a 30-ish minute up-and-back where we turn around at the meadow about three quarters of a mile past our house. We did the same thing last New Year’s Eve, and while I don’t remember everything we talked about, I know that I love these walks with my wife. It’s some of the best time we can spend together as a couple–enough time for a good conversation and always free of the (kid) distractions that (kids) often pop up.

This was a pretty good year, we decided. Really good.

There have certainly been harder years, both collectively for us and the world. And that’s not to say this year was easy by any stretch–there were times of loss, times of sickness, times of difficulty. It’s hard to look back at the entire year, though, and not feel like it was incredible. The kind where I can only think to shake my head and pray for counsel on what to do with it all.

This past January I set out my annual list of New Years resolutions, and keeping with tradition, I’m offering an honest assessment of how it’s gone.

• Pray deeply. There’s another post about this somewhere (you’ll see other breadcrumbs in tomorrow’s post), but I’ve leaned into this. Prayer has rooted itself into my spiritual life and practice this year, and it’s built a different kind of foundation. I’ve felt movement. I’m glad I put this one at the top of the list.
• Feed the birds. Oh, the poor birds. I started out with the best of intentions. I filled the feeders and kept them going. The squirrels came. (I’ve dealt with this before.) I decided to downgrade the seed, and filled a feeder with cheap stuff that mostly sat unbothered. I sort of declared victory against the squirrels. Then I forgot about it, the feed rotted in the tube and created one of the most foul, disgusting science experiments I’ve encountered, and I abandoned the project. The feeders are out there, and there’s good feed in the garage. Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. D-minus.
• Read books. Check. While I still haven’t returned to my pre-grad school pace, carving out time and space to read books was a wonderful return to form. Favorite gift: from Dad, Jack Curry’s The 1998 Yankees: the Inside Story. Most fun: Tom Hanks’s The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece. Most provocative: David Joy’s Those We Thought We Knew. Best read overall: Ron Rash’s The Caretaker. For the year ahead, I’m excited to finish a gift from my kiddos (Watership Down) and from a coworker (Ed Southern’s Fight Songs).
• Write twice per week. I started this year uncertain of how my dissertation would end up. I was deeply concerned that I had lost too much momentum, that the move up to the mountains and everything involved with starting a new job had poured cold water on whatever embers might remain. Then I heard about Tom Hanks’s strategy for writing (he used it while writing the novel referenced above): the Pomodoro method. Soon, I was taking a few days off each month to sit and research, read, and write in short 25-minute bursts followed by 5 minute breaks. It worked. I turned in a full draft of my dissertation two weeks ago. While I didn’t quite reach the pace of this resolution, I’m grateful for it.
• Play games. I can check this one off, but there’s a part of me wishing I’d played even more. Monopoly, chess, Uno, and Chameleon round out the family faves. I made it through Wordle every single day (except a handful of days where I just forgot; only once I struck out!) and the Sedecordle many, many days. I got out on the golf course a couple of times, too. I was quietly thrilled when I had my office team over to the house for the holidays, and somebody showed up with a game to play.
• Rest. There were several stretches during the year when I ignored this one. Seven day work weeks, months where we look at the calendar and can’t see an unscheduled weekend at home in sight… I could have done better. But–and bear with me here–over the summer I signed up for SlingTV, and then I kept it, and at least once a week, I’ll plop down on the couch and veg out for a while. That’s something, right? C. Maybe C-minus.
• Sow encouragement. I wish I’d done this one more habitually. That was honestly my intention in putting it on the list. Encouraging others is easy, free, and fun. It’s also hard to keep track of–I didn’t write down or make notes when I encouraged someone. Maybe I did it more than I realize? Let me encourage you to remind me, if that’s the case.
• Exercise 4x per week. Well. The year was going reasonably well according to my Apple watch until the autumnal time change. That’s always the thing that knocks me off my block. I often start the year with good discipline, and into the summer it usually involves time outdoors, afternoon walks, etc. But when it gets dark so early…. I become a slacker. Then, it’s time to eat your way from Thanksgiving to Christmas. And then I feel bad when it’s time to write this list. And I’ll probably put it back on the list in some form tomorrow.
• Reach the Pinnacle. This was FUN to accomplish. It was also the most strenuous hike Kelly and I have taken on in our time here. The Pinnacle is a local hike (we can be to the trailhead in 15 minutes), but the full loop was eight miles and involved nearly 2,000 feet in elevation. The payoff was incredible: a Balsam ridgetop view of our inspiring landscape.
• Let go of the little things. Kel suggested this one, and like sowing encouragement, it was hard to keep up with. I asked her, though, how she felt I’d done. “There were fewer times when I thought, ‘Just say yes! Why on earth do you care about that?'” Reader, I think I’ve become a little bit more laid back. And that’s a good thing. Goal met.

Happy New Year, friends. Today our house is adorned with birthday banners as we cheer Thomas into his eleventh year. Tonight: charcuterie, time to soak in the hot tub, fireworks, movies, and time together. I can’t imagine a better way to wrap up what’s been a pretty good year.

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