This past year, I was cleaning the boys' room, and I found this little book. I remember when Hippie Boy was given this book. All these long years it has stood quietly on the shelf. I sat down on the bed and opened it, and this was the first and only entry.
It made me think of all the years of my life, when I resolved all sorts of things, at the New Year, and at other seasons. I no longer make a list, only to promptly forget it, to find it sitting quietly in the dust of future years. But I will press forward with resolve, and most of all hope.
The most beautiful thing we have been given is not a book full of blank pages, or a calendar of clean white spaces to fill. It is newness of life, lives that can be made and remade, written and rewritten.