prayer for the new year just round the bend
by bam
it’s almost upon us, here in the hush of the in-between days. new year’s coming. new hopes, new dreams, new promises.
new beginning. old habits. can we shed even one? break one chain that binds us? worry less? hope more? trade in gentle for harsh? can we be kinder, beginning with our sweet old selves? can we sketch out, at last, a plan for moving us closer to the ways we want to be, to live?
i’ve no idea who invented the notion of starting over, but it’s a notion to which i’m deeply indebted. the whole year gets to start all over again. one after another. slate gets wiped — or so we pretend, so we make ourselves believe under the noise of the new year’s whistles and horns.
as i settle in for a quiet turning over of the page, i think of the ones who aren’t with me. the ones who’ve lived their lives large, with abundance. who filled every crevice with courage, with joy, with conviction. i think of the look in their eyes as their hours drew to a close. how they implored: don’t waste this. it’s not lasting forever.
i’m drawing all of them close. each and every one who didn’t live to see 2019. i’m thinking of one magnificent friend who at any hour might breathe her last. i’m poring over the lessons she’s been teaching ever since her cancer came back, ever since she’s been bravely, transparently, hold-nothing-back “nearing the edge.”
i’ve been digging around my old notes, and found a prayer i prayed once upon a new year. if i boiled it all into one single whisper it would be this, i believe: give me the grace, please, to make this as holy a world, as gentle a world, as the one you, God, first imagined when you breathed it all into being.
dear God, help me take it up a notch. and be ready with the band-aids when i fall and skin my knees.*
amen. love, me
*i decided the longer version of my new-year prayer was simply taking up oxygen, so i boiled it down and left only one line standing. the one about band-aids, for the hours and days when we fall from our deepest-held hopes…..
what’s your new year prayer?
pull up a chair 
I love your prayer. I’m copying it down. I too have been thinking of those who are no longer with us. Today is the 10th anniversary of John’s sister MaryJane going home to God. She had a fierce but gentle soul. Pondering that paradox as I sit here reflecting on the past and imagining the future. Happy blessed new year! xoxoxo
it’s a rather succinct little prayer. and i’m touched that you find it worth writing down. happy blessed new year to you, sweet blessed heart. xoxox
I pray for peace always. Peace in our world, of course, as well as in our country and community. But I also pray for peace in the hearts and minds of those I love, my husband, children, grandchildren, neighbors, those who are ill, those who are suffering. Less worry and anxiety, I believe, would lead to more and more of that peace. And I so wish it could happen!
Happy New Year to all!
beautiful. i am wholly with you in the peace prayer. peace in the heart, most of all. xoxox
Lovely post. Thank you for sharing. Wish you all the best in the New Year – speak766
thank you!!!! and blessed new year to you, too.
I am praying for a world devoid of rancor, greed and the pursuit of what gives no true peace. Return to fundamental adherence to principles that
sought the best for all and never lost sight of the fragility and sanctity of
life. Desire for simplicity over complexity and never to lose the human, the
humane view of life’s purpose. And perhaps, mixed with the longed-for peace, the whimsy and laughter that makes it the more spirit-filled and meaningful.
wow! that prayer packs a wallop and i love every word, every thought, every hope. it’s gorgeous. thank you, HH. <3!
a bit of merwin for the new year….blessings to all the chairs…..
To the New Year
BY W. S. MERWIN
With what stillness at last
you appear in the valley
your first sunlight reaching down
to touch the tips of a few
high leaves that do not stir
as though they had not noticed
and did not know you at all
then the voice of a dove calls
from far away in itself
to the hush of the morning
so this is the sound of you
here and now whether or not
anyone hears it this is
where we have come with our age
our knowledge such as it is
and our hopes such as they are
invisible before us
untouched and still possible
W. S. Merwin, “To the New Year” from Present Company (Port Townsend, Washington: Copper Canyon Press, 2005).