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The new year is almost upon us and boy am I delighted that the old one is almost over. 2022 hasn’t been, by any means, a thoroughly bad year, not like 2020 or anything. But, like all of them, it is well nigh full up to the brim of trouble and anxiety. It is time to trade it in for a bright, shiny new one. The best thing about time, as Brianna Wiest has been trying to express (she’s my latest investigative writing project) in various pithy, but still rather numb and vague commonsensical Jungian platitudes, is that it goes by. Isn’t that deep? Believe me, so deep.

But what of the past? Did 2022 amount to anything? Personally, I did a lot more than I expected to in 2022.

  • I survived a golden European trip with all of my children. Not losing anyone along the way and actually having a good time was all that I could have expected. But really, it was golden. There were so many beautiful things to look at and eat, of course, but, as you must already know, it’s the being together that really matters. It’s seeing people you think you know in unusual circumstances and discovering something about them you hadn’t seen before. It’s looking forward to the Being and the Becoming…oh my gosh, get out of my head Ms. Wiest. Also, I swear, I will finish going through my pictures and put them up on Insta…someday.
  • I read or listened to 85 books. This must be my own peculiar triumph. Is anyone as brilliant as me? Except for people who read for a living—like those clever PhDs who speak so authoritatively on Twitter about important subjects. The 85 includes some trash—I like to balance things out—a good amount of Ian Rankin, and some books of improvement like How to Think Seriously About the Planet (ten stars), Why Liberalism Failed (ten stars), Live Your Truth and Other Lies (ten stars), and a reread of Jesus and John Wayne (one star for unseriousness). I listened to The Gospel Comes with a House Key and had a lot of feelings (lots of stars though), and read and reviewed (did I ever even post it?) Celebrities for Jesus (a few stars). I also tackled some longer Victorian Novels like North and South and Wives and Daughters. On the whole, a really good year of reading.
  • I cleaned and cleaned and cleaned my house (you wouldn’t be able to tell). More importantly, I admitted that I am essentially a Maximalist and That’s…Okay.
  • I got two kids driving. This is actually the pinnacle of my vocation as a parent. Forgot to photograph the first one after she took her test but the second one is taking his next Wednesday and he’s guaranteed to pass because we paid for it upfront. Maybe I’ll take a picture of them together. The third one is well on his way and should be cruising the town sometime mid-February. You’re Welcome.
  • I did a lot of stuff at church (can’t even remember all the odd tasks here and there) like arranging for an upcoming official Catechesis of the Good Shepherd training for our region (DM me if you’re interested, relatively local, and want to join), and coping with the huge number of children (for us) being involved in our Children’s Department. The biggest thing, though, is that, given this was supposed to be our Sabbatical Year, I managed not to do that which I was pretty sure I should have done but also shouldn’t have done because I wasn’t supposed to but also who else would do it?…turns out there were people who can and did…
  • I failed to feel too bad about failing to blog regularly.
  • I worked hard on developing more muscle mass.
  • I decided it was time to move on from my midlife crisis that I’ve been enjoying over the last five years and make some decisions about what to do with myself next.
  • I dyed my hair for the first time.
  • I binged on content from the dissident right/neo-reactionary/feminism against progress kinds of people.
  • I got lots more comfortable confessing my sins (to God—not to you lot).

So, now it’s going to be 2023. Unless Christ has mercy on us and comes back in the next day or two, unlikely given how long he’s waited so far, that means I’ve got to belly up and make some resolutions. The sad thing about that is that I utterly failed to accomplish all the ones I made last year—except the 85 books. I didn’t write any new ones of my own. I didn’t lose the ten pounds I promised myself I would. I certainly didn’t “blog every day.” I didn’t even clean out the garage or start a substack. But still, hope springs eternal, so in 2023 I’ll definitely do all that stuff—except the substack, probably won’t bother. Nor get on TikTok, even though I totally want to. But maybe this will be the year I actually write another book or something…who knows, only God and maybe Brianna Wiest.

Photo by Moritz Knöringer on Unsplash

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