I awoke this morning with an epic eggnog and skillet brownie hangover. One that no amount of red Gatorade or black coffee could cure. It’s a new year and a new opportunity to be a new me. Unlike the fairy dust, fireworks and fanfare that had laid me to sleep, I surprisingly felt and looked the same this morning as I did the morning after Cinderella dropped her slipper.

As I often struggle to remember what I had for lunch the day before, I have an overall sense that 2021 was a partly cloudy year. Though I may not recollect all the peaks and valleys, I feel certain of the plateaus. The level places in life where I seem to find the most comfort. The current is calm, the wind is light and the sun shines upon my face just enough to keep me warm. Some may believe aspiring to reside on a flat rock lacks ambition, gumption and vision. I see it differently.

Life will always, and faithfully, fill its coffers with shadowy paths of despair and disappointment. Although not promised, most of us will, at times, plant our flags of delight on the mountain tops of exhilaration and accomplishment. But mostly, I hope to dwell somewhere in the middle as one cannot live within the beauty of the Caribbean coral and the hurricane winds of destruction where days seesaw between the doldrums of the deep and the towers of ivory which flirt with the sky.

As I coax my crystal ball to divulge its secrets for the new year, it feels more like asking the mirror on the wall “who’s the fairest of them all”? The answer can be more truthful than I wish and typically is, “not you.” It’s akin to a mirror hung above the barkeeps shoulder with the words inscribed, “No wonder you’re going home alone tonight”. The check mate of reality shows me the mirror simply reflects what it sees, not what it’s seen or will see. The mirror is but an honest evaluation of the present day. In its truest sincerity, the mirror can only analyze the life created by the person standing before it.

So, let’s start this year begging for more cowbell. Seek others that make us better. Peer across the crevasse of the great glacier to others different than ourselves. Let’s not just build a bridge to assist the proverbial chicken to cross the road, but build relationships with those who will enrich us and us, them. Doing so takes little talent and never requires us to stop eating Bojangles.

There are no tricks, spells, or magic potions of success in the new year. Hard work, focus, prayer, and loving thy neighbor usually seems to bring the increase. I hope for valleys not as deep and my fair share of peaks to mount. I pray my reflection in 2022 will resemble more the goodness of God’s glory which surrounds me and less the flesh of my bones that comes to steal and destroy abundant life.

For now, I’ll enjoy my plateau of solace and dream of what’s to come. Cheers to you 2022, but please cool your heals of anticipation as I have no plans to develop an intimate relationship with my local gym, divorce my Chick-Fil-A habit, pour my sweet tea down the drain and, I’ll be sure to ring my big, boisterous bell ‘til all the cows come home.

Happy New Year, y’all!