I woke up on New Year’s morning to the smell of roast simmering in the CrockPot.
It’s a familiar smell I grew up with and raised my family with. A long, slow simmer time makes a tender roast. Combined with potatoes and carrots, it’s a close contender for my favorite comfort meal.
New Year’s Day has never meant a lot to me. The first day of the year isn’t much different than the last day of the year. Yet it reminds me of the hope of life. It prompts me to be thankful for the details of my life, not just the ones I like but the ones that spur me to struggle and help me grow.
I woke up New Year’s morning with familiarity – and appreciation of it – and the hope of what I don’t yet know and haven’t yet lived – and appreciation of it.
I stayed in bed a little longer than usual, and I prayed and reflected. Just as the smell of roast infused my house, the hope of my faith filled my soul. The promise of God’s faithfulness filled me to the brim, and I thanked him.
What we simmer and infuse into our lives can comfort and nourish us. (It can also create a stench or make us sick. And much of the time, we become so familiar with the stench and mess around us that we don’t notice it much.) What we do in the evening sets the tone for the next day, and how we start the day ripples through the hours that follow. We need to be intentional. We need to be grateful. We need to choose well.
It’s a process that takes time and intention.
And it starts right now.