The Year in Review
One Christmas night over twenty years ago, I lay in bed after a happy day spent celebrating with my family at the beach. Earlier that day, I had read the Biblical account of Christ's birth, and as quiet finally settled over the house, one verse still resonated in my mind: "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."
I could only imagine what thoughts were whirling through Mary's heart in the days and weeks after she gave birth to baby Jesus. She certainly had a lot to ponder, from the shocking moment an angel told her the part she would play in history to the birth of her miraculous baby and the aftermath.
While I am no Mary, I do love her Son. Knowing Him is the greatest gift of my life, and I have also enjoyed many earthly gifts. But, as I tried to call them up that long-ago night as another year faded, I found that my memories were a blur. The days had passed so quickly, and I had fallen into bed exhausted each night from chasing three young kids and managing our home. Rarely did I spend time pondering more profound things in my heart. My days were like pictures snapped, then filed away and forgotten.
We live in a culture that is all about looking forward and making resolutions for the future. Especially at New Year's, the message is "out with the old, in with the new." Whatever the reason, human nature seems to propel us, willy-nilly, into the next moment, like we're constantly jumping off a roller coaster and running to get in line for another. But treating our days like rides at an amusement park, enjoyed (or not), then quickly forgotten, is a missed opportunity, especially from a spiritual standpoint.
After my Christmas epiphany, when I saw that life was slipping unnoticed through my hands, I made it a point to start remembering. What treasures had God given me in the previous year that I had failed to consider fully? Thus began my December tradition of cobbling together a narrative of the year. I call it "The Year in Review." These accounts are rambling and abbreviated, full of holes and things left unsaid. In other words, they are a mess.
No matter how much I'm able to record each year before being swept into another or how disjointed the telling is, the exercise has become more meaningful than I expected. When I first began the reviews, they were simply an effort to record memories and fun stories – to give myself and my family a chance to remember and express gratitude. Writing about the year forced me to reflect on it and savor it. Even now, what I include hasn't changed much – it's still mostly a re-telling of events. But it's more than a nostalgic journal entry.
Observing my life through the rearview mirror enlarges my perspective. As I summarize each year, I can suddenly see not just the trees but the forest, too – a mixture of the mundane bits of life and the more significant themes running through them. As I re-live the events, I see beyond them to what I am not writing down. I feel gratitude for gifts that I tossed aside and absorb lessons I failed to learn while caught up in the business of living. Hindsight, as it turns out, is revelatory.
Pausing to absorb the content of my days makes me marvel at how God was present and active, often in ways I missed at the time. Recalling the challenging parts of each year – losses, illnesses, arguments – pulls back the curtain to show me how often God comforted me and gave me peace. Looking back, I can see countless prayers answered and crises resolved. Recognizing God's help in hindsight strengthens my faith. "Wow," I think, "He truly was with me."
And intermingled in the fabric of my days are special people. It's humbling to look back and see how God stretched and challenged me in my family roles and friendships, often without me realizing it. So, as I write, I appreciate the relationships that absorbed much of my time but were so worth it. Thinking of each loved one, I pray for them. I also pray for myself to continue to grow as a wife, mother, daughter, and friend.
My annual review also helps me see how I have changed. Seeing growth is rewarding, but noting areas where I still struggle is humbling. From those insights flow my resolutions and prayers for the new year.
Looking back on a full year also enables me to show myself some grace for all that I didn't accomplish. Life's overwhelming fullness is more apparent in the rearview mirror, and I acknowledge that I can only do so much. I release the internal haranguing for what I left undone and how much work God still has to do in me. I recognize I'm not Jesus; I can only cooperate with God's work. I accept that God is sculpting me, and it's a life-long process.
Maybe instead of writing resolutions for a new year, we should resolve to look back on the old one – with fresh eyes. Only when we strip away the irritations, busy work, daily demands, and memories of where we have been can we see where God is trying to take us.
Reflecting on a year of life doesn't require a written chronicle, although this method is a fun way to share family stories with future generations. (I'm leaving my "annual reviews" with my children). The exercise can be as simple as pulling out the phone to browse through the year's pictures – slowly and thoughtfully – maybe even as a family.
Whether alone or together, recorded or not, considering the past is an essential spiritual exercise with unexpected benefits. Ultimately, it's good to examine our lives and remember God's work in them because, as Christians, we are part of the same story that Mary was thinking about over two thousand years ago. So shouldn't we ponder and treasure how God gave us a part in it, too?
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