Over the New Year, someone hoped, out loud, that this decade would be a better one. This decade? For the past several years, as we kept a journal about family life, at year's end we reflected on the changes wrought by twelve months. We looked back at what occurred in one year, and then looked ahead at the challenges and opportunities of another one. A decade, though?

Usually we finished up the year with a sense of hope and renewal, despite whatever each year had contained...we wanted the New Year. The blank slate. The white winter canvas of new-fallen snow and another chance. 

2005: We reflected that "...the next twelve months will present obstacles and challenges for all of us, as individuals, families, communities, nations and a world. May it also bring healing, cures, remissions, dignity in passages between life and death, discoveries, adventures, miracles and blessings, growth, forgiveness, peace, commitment, renewal, strength, patience, humor, understanding, and love....Once more, snow falls at the end of the day, changing precipitation into something white and gentle. It 'sticks,' covering the flaws and faults in the world, layering it in potential. Our footsteps at midnight are the first imprints of the new year, coming and going..."

2006: We considered that "...if we appreciate any... lessons...it's living with a sort of fearlessness...Perhaps we'll never be as "innocent" as we were back then. ... But we hope. And we make choices with a two-fold awareness: we must savor life now, because we're never certain of what tomorrow might bring, but we must also live as if we'll all grow old with each other."

2007: We spoke out of loss, and dared to believe. "Empty? We choose not to be empty...that cannot be the legacy of a life lived together as a family, with Jessie among us...Because we have each other. And we have you. And love endures beyond the span of a human life. The year ahead ...isn't empty at all. It is just...potentiality. A promise itself. A time, a space, a heart, a mind, a life, a relationship, a community, a world just waiting...waiting to be filled."

2008: We started our thoughts by saying, "Yes, it's a time of uncertainty. Disbelief. Sorrow. Perhaps even stark fear or blazing anger. ...Yet it's a season of tremulous hope. Strength. Courage. Conviction and commitment...there's this other part. The part you can grab onto sometimes...in the moment your red sled plummets down a packed snow path...and lifts into the snapping blue-white air. ...peals of laughter and joy. ...when the darkest, coldest times set in. ...Just know, they're inside...Small burning gifts: little suns. Part of our wintertime possibility and power."

2009 is beyond words. We haven't been able to find a way to speak of it. Sure, we can be optimists and can make lists of accomplishments. Then again, we can add up small hurts and huge gaping holes. This past year? Measured against the impact of each person who has come and gone, intersecting with us, it is complex and ever-expanding. Weighed in a spectrum of highs and lows, it has been a long, tough and sobering twelve months...we are challenged. We aren't at our best...really, we're just trying to be present in a meaningful way. Or maybe just to be here, period. Often that's a stretch. It has been one of the toughest years in our married lives, in our personal lifetimes, or as parents or children...Maybe even as a nation. We hurt more, not less. And hopefulness seems further away...a promise that isn't always attainable. We are hollowed out. Or chock-full of too many unnamed feelings and thoughts. So tired. Trying hard to hang on and find our way. But we simply don't make promises to each other, because we're not sure what comes next, or if we can keep them. 

Measuring in decades: Challenged to look toward a new decade, though? We haven't thought that far backward or forward in a long time. 

But measuring life by a decade? When asked about it, friends were quite struck by where they'd been on their life journey ten years ago...and how much circumstances have changed. For some of them, it has been a good decade. For others, rough but manageable. For some...us included...the outcome has been almost unspeakable.

Across 10 years, so much happens. People became spouses, parents, grandparents, or were unexpectedly solo again. Young people graduated and entered new phases of their lives...college or early careers. Families were conceived, adopted, born or grown up. Partnerships were created, and other marriages or families were sundered...perhaps forever. We went to war. We moved into our own places, bought homes, or lost them. Some folks started and closed businesses. Or changed careers. We were scared by diagnoses, celebrated healing, or wept when we knew that there was nothing left to do. We overcame problems, and other times found ourselves in the middle of them...perhaps due to accidents, disease, violence, addictions, or economics. Dreams grew and changed, faded or came into being. Great loves lived and died. 

And as we reflect on the past decade, consider where we are now. Some of what's true about our lives was planned. Some of it was unimaginable, beyond our control. Some of it came as a shock and a grief, and some of it came as unexpected joy or happiness. Overall...this is perhaps the hardest decade of our personal and family lives, and has certainly been a tough one for our nation and world.

Yes, we hope the next decade is kinder. Better. But we know now...we cannot guess what's coming. We may have plans. Ambitions. Goals. Timelines. Passions. Loves. Dreams. And many of those will influence what happens. But other forces will also shape our lives. 

We also know that not everyone we love will be with us at the end of the next decade. Already we have lost beloved ones during our journey. (Or perhaps it's best to say...our loved ones have moved beyond our current reach...they aren't lost.) And perhaps we, ourselves, will not be here...on this mortal earth, within those 10 years. We cannot know.

Then again, sometimes what matters is how we respond to what comes, whether we anticipate it, or it comes as a surprise. After all, we cannot claim the good parts of the past decade, without also finding space for the tough stuff, too. And who...who would choose to unpluck the weave of such gifts as Jessie's life in our family...or Sarah's growing up into a young woman...or all of the unique memories shared among family and friends...from the threads of pain, anger and loss that are also part of its enduring fabric? You'd have to unravel the whole cloth...and we cannot do so. It's impossible. 

Ten years from now...some aspects of our family lives will be comforting, and some parts of its shape will be a surprise. 

A decade. Yes, it's a different way to think about our legacy.

Suddenly: Most of us, it seems, are consumed with getting through a workday or a school day, and getting everything done before we go to bed or wake up tomorrow morning. Maybe some of us anticipate the next holiday or vacation, or the finish of a big project, or a personal milestone such as a birthday or anniversary...something else significant marked on the calendar. Some of us live hour-by-hour, as the news in our lives changes and we catch our breath, trying to grasp what's happening.

Then suddenly...we are reminded, by a series of events, just how quickly a few moments can change your life forever. And how immediate life becomes in crisis. All over again, just when you thought nothing else could happen. The earthquake in Haiti, of course. Or one family's nightmare as their son relapses with cancer. Another family's struggle as their child is newly diagnosed with leukemia. A parent's sudden, inexplicable passage. Ironically, crisis can also unfurl slowly...dragging on over weeks and months. Cancer, natural disasters, economic losses and other crises are taking a toll on too many families. The totals, though not as sudden and magnified as those from an earthquake, are each catastrophic within their setting.  Crises...some sudden, some slow...alter the shape of an individual and a family forever. 

We can try to think about decades. But sometimes we're reduced to counting every breath and heartbeat. Because it doesn't seem like there's anything more certain than the next inhalation.

What next? Over the winter holidays, as one family lit candles in the darkness, they shared a quote that we find oddly comforting. It has stuck with us...echoing...rolling around...like a small smooth stone that can be rolled in the palm, between thumb and restless fingertips, whenever it is needed. Like a 'worry stone.' Perhaps it will resonate for you...perhaps not: "Fear not tomorrow, for God is already there."

Is that comforting? To believe that someone has gone ahead of you, and is already waiting? Maybe you believe it's the Creator. Or maybe you believe it's your loved ones, who have passed into a place you cannot yet follow. Just the idea that someone's ahead of you, and knows what you will find when you get there? It doesn't change what happens next. But we tuck the thought into our pockets, and keep going. 

Inhaling, we look backward. At a day. A year. A decade. Close our eyes. 

Hold our breath. Imagine. Can we make it through another 10 years? Or even 24 hours? One way or another...yes. Because they add up one step and one moment at a time. So we'll start with those tiny increments and keep going. We'll go on for as long as we're given. And along the way, let's just do our best...whatever our best might be at the time.

Exhaling, we open our eyes again. And dare to look. Then ready or not, it's time for the next step. 

The journey continues.