Liam’s toys lay scattered across the floor of the living room, a room strewn with cold cups of tea that were set down and never picked up again, with a dirty laundry pile in the next door bathroom.

There is always one more thing.

This is where New Years finds me.. a year that should feel as crisp as the fresh snow outside my window, but instead feels quite messy amidst the day to day reality of life.

And as naptime envelopes our little house, I find myself carving time amidst the messy. Because the messy? It will always be there.

Much like everyone else, I am anxious to leave the aches and hurts of 2021 behind. Lord knows, there have been enough of them.

But turning fresh the calendar to a new beginning, I feel this ache deep in my soul.

I do not need more resolutions.

I do not need more plans.

I do not need a new year.

I need more God.

I would like to say 2022 is the year my running shoes will leave the closet at long last; that the PT sessions will no longer be necessary; that it’s the year Liam will get more than 2 hour increments of sleep for be first time in his life; the year Stephen will have time to invest in his CFI.

I would like to make all these brilliant plans.

But New Years Day gently reminded me: our best laid plans can go awry due to circumstances beyond our control. 2022 greeted me with tailbone and pelvic pain, something not within my plans. And a day I envisioned of conquering to do lists and starting out the year less overwhelmed quickly became a day of laying and rest and not even changing my toddler out of his 2-day-old pajamas.

And so, my New Year’s resolution is simply this: more of God.

More of His plans in exchange for mine.

More of seeking Him above my own desires.

More looking for the ways He is at work, instead of waiting for Him to work in other areas I deem more important.

More gratefulness for the things He is doing, and less frustration over what He isn’t.

I do not need another year filled with more of my own plans, but rather His. I want to find Him here, in all that is hard and good and lovely and disappointing and uncertain, even frustrating. In the sleepless baby, in the persistent prolapse, in the throes of toddler tantrums, in a country that grows more unstable each day, in a world of worry…

I need to know Him here.