where the writers are
Abandoning Resolutions
Brilliant Sunset in the Cabinet Mountain Wilderness

Blogging New Year Resolutions might mean I'd have to have some. I do not. They are, for me, a waste of time. Either I'm getting my act together from week to week, or I'm not. There is also little that can be added to the thoughts already posted on here anyway. Except, my point of view is probably the most unique. Resolutions are usually intended as goals for the coming year. My coming year has only about nine to ten months in it. John Oughton gave this gift of membership to me not as a beginning for my writings, but as an end of them. A place where I can stop beating my head against the proverbial brick wall and find some resolution in my late-in-life goals as a writer.  Oh sure, I may live longer, but why? Is there something here that's more important or more beautiful than where I'm going? Not likely, says I. However, maybe I could apply some resolutions to the months between Now and Then. Perhaps add to the many things that illness and impending death has taught me. On the other hand, One doesn't want to be too full of knowledge because that takes away the surprise ending. Would I really want to remove illness from my life? No, again. I'd have to give up the blessings I've received, the ability I've found in laughing or appreciating the small joys in each day. I'd have to give up my view from the tops of the mountains, whether real or imagined. I would rather build on these, welcome anything new offered to me, even in the worst pain.

One concept I can pass on to those who are still attempting to make and keep resolutions is that small, hidden key I found. The one that  makes it all worth it. The small thing that few people find. Too often, we say that we made it through the trial and found the blessing. That's true; many of us do. But, the truth lies short of that.

The key: Enjoy the trial while in it. You cannot separate the trial from the blessing, which is what we humans always try to do. As if the trial itself was work, and now, we are enjoying the fruits of our labors. How ricidulous is that? Since we are constantly in trial, through decisions we've made or just life's processes, when do we just sit on our laurels and bask in the light of that new knowledge? On a particularly painful afternoon, a Church friend of mine stopped in my tiny apartment so see if I needed anything. Guests are rare in my bedroom so I fussed, using my bed as the means of getting from my position on it to the kitchen for the missing water whereby I could take my pain med. Upon returning, I made it only as far as the foot of the bed. Sinking there, I gasped, "I hate this!" to my Father in Heaven. Then, just as quickly understood that hating something so full of blessings was an oxymoron. A true twist. I might as well have said, "I hate the blessings!" After apologizing to the Lord, I haven't said that since. When you begin to find the joy while in the trial, you also start laughing in the pain. You welcome it because it opens the doors of your mind, of your heart, the very essence of your soul. The knowledge, whatever it is that you are to learn, becomes the threads of your existence while in the process. As a result, the process becomes your friend, that trial also turning into joy and laughter throughout instead of woeful misery.Perhaps none of this makes much sense to you, those with resolutions for the New Year, the many plans you think will occur. Even the books on which you are working, or the plans for promotion of a new release. If not, then continue to beat your heads against that brick wall. I give you permission to wreathe in agony, complaining all the while how life has given you more than you can bear.

 Me? I'll be enjoying the ride, anxiously awaiting my transfer to the next plane. The view is outstanding!