What do you do when your life, a child bent on its own way, heads for the street? What do you do when your life, an undomesticated bull, paws the ground and charges you?
What does any of us do when we meet the wild stubbornness of life, and what force can any of our resolutions have for taming it?
These are the questions I ask at the end of one year, the beginning of another.
I know a little about the feral qualities of life.
I have five children. An unexpected grace. A surprise script.
I've lost my confidence that life goes according to plan. I've made my peace with no longer being in charge. I can't even keep the shoes straightened by the front door.
A new year necessitates a nod to the unmanageability of life and children and wild bulls.
But I'm not waving a white flag.
I still stubbornly believe that change is possible, that prayer means something, that I, galvanized with intention and effort and wild confidence in Jesus, can meet life in all of its ferocity.
Desire. Courage. Commitment. They are the ways I stand brave.
A new year can begin with a list of resolutions, our mustered resolve about the ways life finally start heeding our demands. Is it there we meet disappointment? There we lose faith?
Or a new year can begin with faith, not in ourselves, not in our intentions.
But in God. Whose purposes are, have always been, and will forever be good.
Whose power it is to tame lions and domesticate bulls.