But for the last few days, I’d been sifting through a few emotions about 2022. A new year comes with some gravity–especially after a tough 2021 for my family.
Recently I completed a yearly prayer of Examen–my second year of a new personal tradition. Like the Israelites standing at the Jordan and choosing stones of remembrance (Joshua 4), I’m looking back at how I’ve seen God writing His story in and around me. And how his presence has met me there.
The English teacher of my junior year could have, at varying points in the year, landed squarely in both “Wisest Writing Mentor” and “She Needs a Pat on the Back…Off a Cliff” categories.
She scrawled Blah over my paper titles. Castigated my writing publicly. Scoffed at my conclusions.
A couple of weeks ago, I was stuffing paper bags with sandwiches, flipping pancakes, signing permission slips, smelling breath to confirm teeth brushing, etc.–all your average morning chaos. That’s when my middle child told me he was quitting football.
Imagine the activity in my kitchen suddenly lurching to a halt. “What? Why?”
He had some good reasons. And a few not-great, 12-year-old ones. It was one of those weird parenting situations where you wish there was a highly detailed playbook. What to do when your kid wants to quit football and he’s been in it for a month and isn’t getting to play and… I told him to go to practice, and we’d talk about it on the weekend.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
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