We turned the pages of the calendar and there you are, 2022, a new year. You’re here and I for one, welcome you.

I’ve come to appreciate the transition from one year to the next. I’m learning to say a gentle farewell and an easy hello.

Saying hello to 2022 feels different

At the beginning of 2021, after the weight of the first year of the pandemic, the world seemed frenzied in anticipation of change. Overwhelmed by the pressure, Lighten Up 2021, was all I could think to respond.

And now, 2022 feels more like turning a page in a novel than starting a new book. Maybe it’s because I’m not expecting a whole new story.

Beauty in the in-between

There’s beauty in intentionally living in this in-between-ness, this transition from one year to the next. There’s peace in allowing the new year to settle on us like a soft mist, rather than expecting a sudden shift in weather.

Having one foot in 2021 and one in 2022 feels like a moment of grace. Before we dive into the new year, we have the opportunity to reflect on the past.

Naming the narrative

Emily P. Freeman says that naming the narrative helps us consider where we are in our own story. Naming things gives them importance and weight, helps us be specific, and gives us better understanding of underlying emotions and issues.

As I step into 2022, I sense a deep shift in my perspective. And I realize that I have changed this year. The arc of my story, my narrative, has shifted.

As I pause to reflect, I realize that the call I felt to lighten up my expectations for 2021 and let the year unfold, slowly and with purpose … this call wasn’t simply a rallying cry for the year. It was an invitation to a new way of living.

My word for 2021 was light and the invitation for my soul was to slow down, be less anxious, create a sustainable rhythm for my life. I wanted to look back on my year and this season of life — and see progress, growth and purpose.

Small, daily and tiny steps add up

I cleared out clutter, removing what didn’t bring me joy or serve a purpose. Instead of constantly moving, I focused on getting the rest I needed and gathering my strength. I quit pushing myself to do more and settled into sitting with my journal in the mornings, writing with quiet music in the background.

I craved solitude as much as connection with others, finding the place where my mind was “free from input from other minds” (Ketheldge & Erwin, Lead Yourself First). And, I realized that I also have to curate how much input my brain receives in order to process my own thoughts.

Intention is purpose coming to life

For me, the intention to live lighter was born from desperation, or at least exasperation. I was tired of living tired and overwhelmed. I wanted to claim God’s promise of rest for our souls. Where was the easy yoke and the light burden he promised? Why was I trying so hard and feeling so far behind?

Didn’t God promise us?

“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11:29-30

We’re meant to carry a specific burden

In August, as I shared my writing journey with the mastermind group that bolstered me through 2020, my friend Carrie told me that she’d learned oxen yokes were hand-carved for each ox. They were designed to fit the ox specifically so that the animal could pull efficiently and effectively.

If we’re using the yoke designed specifically for us, our burden will be light. When we let go of what’s not ours to carry, we can tune in to our unique design and carry what has been chosen for us.

Mostly, I’m learning, we have to let go of the false assumption that we’re in control. And, of trying to be in control. We have to live lighter, not try harder.

Light comes when we let go

For me, living lighter was a gradual and slow mindset shift. As I began last year, I began to think of myself as a curator of what belonged in my life and what didn’t.

Curators intentionally design spaces to be beautiful, thoughtful and meaningful. They curate objects or items purposefully, creating an intentional experience. They mindfully choose items to best tell the story.

I became a curator, asking myself again and again:

• What’s important and what do I need or want to keep in my life?
• What can I let go of today or what do I need to release?
• Where can I make space for what’s yet to come into my life?

And now, it’s hello, 2022

So what’s next for me? The narrative of living lighter remains: I’ll continue to declutter and clear physical spaces and the calendars. There’s more work to be done here, to simplify and reprioritize, to continue to curate my life. And, I’ll keep my grip soft and invite in the new as well.

My intention for 2022, my word, is mindful. The year 2022 beckons with the invitation to be a student of my own mind, to be intentional, and to keep carving away the unnecessary, making room for the essential.

As you say hello, 2022 …

What narrative will you name? How will you set mindful intentions?

May you step lightly into 2022, experiencing grace in the in-between-ness. May you sense God’s presence drawing you closer to him. And may you feel the call of your very own narrative pulling you deeper into your story.

The post Hello, 2022! appeared first on Elaine Junge, Writer & Blogger.

And, many of us hold space in this season for grief as well as celebration. In Alaska and other dark climates, many struggle to stay positive with the lack of light. How do we keep stepping into the light, even when it’s dark?

First, name and notice the darkness

We know about darkness in Alaska. In the deep middle of an Anchorage winter, on December 21, the sun rises at 10:14 a.m. and set at 3:42 p.m., a span of just five hours and 28 minutes of muted daylight. In Utqiaġvik (formerly known as Barrow, 330 miles north of the Arctic Circle), the sun set on November 18 and won’t rise again until January 23.

People in northern climates are very susceptible to Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, a type of depression that sets in with the lack of daylight hours. But it’s not just the lack of sun that can be a problem this time of year. The holiday season can also be a time when we notice our losses or lack. We may grieve loved ones not here, or missed opportunities, especially during the pandemic. As the new year approaches, we sometimes feel the pressure of unmet expectations — or comparison to others who seem to be living the life we want to live.

When we name the darkness, we give words to what makes us feel heavy or sad.

Second, look for light sources

We know intuitively that we need darkness to appreciate the light. But, if we focus only on the darkness, we’re easily overwhelmed. Once we’ve identified the darkness, it’s important to seek out light sources!

When you’re sensitive to the changing light conditions, it’s important to note when the daylight is declining and pull out your lights! One of the main antidotes to seasonal depression is “light therapy,” or prolonged exposure to light.

Likewise, both mentally and emotionally, we have to seek out the bright spots, especially in dark seasons. It’s important to find the light that already exists in the darkness. Look for the positive and be wary of being sucked into the negative as you navigate rough times or situations.

Third, CREATE light

In the darkest of days, we have to make our light, even if it’s the tiniest of lights. In Alaska, many people hang white lights throughout the winter, not just at the holidays. These beautiful lights bring cheer to the darker season.

“It is better to light one small candle than to curse the darkness.”

– Eleanor Roosevelt

Similarly, we must not only focus on the positive in our life situations, but work hard to create positive outcomes. In The Lightmaker’s Manifesto, author Karen Walrond says: “If we work for the causes around which we have passion — especially if we do it in a spirit of caring, courage, and generosity — joy may naturally follow. And joy is light, right? We create light!

And finally, spread the light

There’s an old campfire song I recall, “Pass it on.” The song, written in 1969 by Kurt Kaiser, begins: “It only takes a spark to get a fire going, and soon all those around, can warm up in its glowing.”

We can be the light, the encouragement, for others. We can put lights up in our homes and yards, invite others to connect during the holiday season, and reach out to those who are hurting.

“There are two ways of spreading light; to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”

– Edith Wharton, American Novelist

When we’re the positive voice in the room, we are the candle. When we share other positive voices, we are the mirror reflecting the light.

Practical tips for stepping into the light when it’s a darker season

Here are ways to intentionally find, create and spread the light in the darker seasons:

• Take breaks to go outside in the middle of the day, at the lightest hour. Walk, take pictures of the light shining through the trees, notice bright points.
• Seek out connection, scheduling time with friends and family.
• Notice the positive around you — and point it out to others who may not be in the right framework to notice it.
• Attend and support holiday activities such as concerts, holiday light presentations, and crafting events.
• Reach out to help those less fortunate. Volunteer at a food bank or shelter during the holiday season, or donate food and goods.
• Acknowledge and support friends who are going through dark seasons, especially those who are grieving. Know that you can’t “fix” their pain, but it may be possible to be a bright spot in an otherwise dim time.

A special note for today …

I think of this contrast between light and dark today, on Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day. On this day 80 years ago, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, launching our country into World War II. President Roosevelt declared it as a day that would live in infamy, helping turn the tide of a terrible war. Out of darkness comes light.

December 7 holds space for me personally also, as the birthday of a dear friend who we lost too early. When I think of her in this season, I hold space for the loss of her presence — and also for her delight in the Christmas holiday. She was a crafter and made the most wonderful wooden ornaments, felted Santa Clauses and rustic snowmen. I treasure her memory as I pull out my Christmas decorations. It’s fitting that I will hang many of them on the tree later today.

In this season of dark and light, may you find yourself stepping into the light. May you find, create and spread the light to others. And, may you feel the sense of God’s presence in your life as a healing light.

The post Stepping into the light when it’s dark appeared first on Elaine Junge, Writer & Blogger.