Finding Hope in a New Decade

When the clock struck midnight in the wee hours of the morning, we all found ourselves facing a new day, a new month, a new year and a new decade. January 1, 2020, launched a new beginning.

It also launched new opportunities, too. January 1, 2020, is the fresh page in the story we’ll begin to write for the upcoming month, year and decade.

Oh, wow!
Blank pages can seem intimidating;
they can seem exhilarating;
they can seem empty;
they can seem full of chances.

Not a writer? It’s okay; most of us aren’t. You’re still writing a figurative story as you live your life, even if you don’t put it down in words.

It’s only fitting that we spend a bit of time reflecting today on what we’ll “write” on the pages of our 2020 story. What we want to write CAN be what gets written, but we have to look within to get it done.

Read that one again: What we want to write CAN be what gets written, but we have to look within to get it done.

It’s been said that the only things that are guaranteed in life are death and taxes, but I think change is inevitable, too. Change can present opportunity, and opportunity is a part of what lies ahead.

Certainty may come in change, death and taxes, but how can we control what 2020 brings, while we begin writing our story? As much as we want to be able to control our circumstances (and therefore, our story), we often aren’t able to do so.

What we CAN control are these:
Our choices,
our words,
our actions,
our deeds,
and our thoughts.

If you’ve read the writings on this dot-com for any period of time, you know this is a frequent subject of mine. It’s a frequent subject, because when the struggles of life clash with our desires of life, investigating the next steps often takes looking within for answers.

The answers and the path forward always lie within our own choices, words, actions, deeds and thoughts…no matter what our life, job, spouse, family or circumstances seem to be.

This new day, new month, new year, and new decade are ready to be written. Here we go!


If you’d like to read more about choices, you can search it in the search bar on the home page of Hope Surrendered, or you can click hereherehere or even here. [There are other writings, but if you’re still clicking on those re-direct links, you’ll find them.]


I’d love to hear your thoughts about what lies ahead for you as you begin living your 2020 story!

Finding Hope in Removing What Is Dead

Fern

I couldn’t take it anymore. There was no real appearance of life, but I wasn’t ready to toss it in the trash.


A few years ago, my husband and sons bought me a beautiful, bushy fern for a long-empty pot and wrought-iron stand which sat in the foyer of our home. It was a Mother’s Day gift…one that was simple and full of life.

My history with indoor plants isn’t good. Look at any one of the six plants in my home, and you’ll see that I am not disciplined enough to care for them the way they need to be cared for. Their hues are various shades of decomposing green, there are always an abundance of “dried” leaves and stems, and all of them scream to be fed, watered, and nourished. Houseplants just aren’t my thing.


I’d had enough with the looks of this fern. It was now ugly and without much life. With scissors in-hand and a big trash can underneath, I began to cut away at the fronds. There were a few green sprigs attempting to emerge from one side of the pot, but it was more dead than alive. By the time I had cut away all that was dead, the plant looked like a hair style from the ’80s…back when large combs held large hair in place swooped over to one side of the head. (oh, the 80s!)

It looks pretty lopsided now, but I think it has a fighting chance at survival, as long as I can remember to water it a few times a week.

I didn’t want to throw it away. I’m glad I didn’t, because when I finished with trimming away what was dead, it reminded me of me. There was a little bit of life left in that pot. It was just enough with which to start over.

My life looks very little like it did five years ago. I thought I was alive and living a nourished life back then, but I’ve had the feeling my Caretaker needed to heavily prune and trim away what was dead. I, too, needed to do some pruning in my own life…pruning of habits, mindsets, expectations, unproductive hopes, people in my life, and some unhealthy emotions.

I pruned.
He pruned.
For a time, I wondered how I’d survive His pruning.

Can I regrow?
Can I bloom in new ways?
Can new life be reborn from what was dried up and ugly?
Can I survive the tearing away  
(it was more than a trim) of the old life in order to become more beautiful, more abundantly full, more nourished, and more prepared to sprout new life?

Yes.
I can.
With some help.
I am, and I will.

I have high hopes for my fern. It reminds me of me. 

I hope to one day look at it and proclaim that removing what was dead was exactly what needed to be done to bring about a second chance at living.

It reminds me of me.