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Ah. The month of January with its New Year’s resolutions. I’ve often felt like Punxsutawney Phil, completely comfortable in a cozy burrow until being pulled out to face inquiring faces. “What are your resolutions?” many people have asked me. “None,” I reply. “None?” they repeat, usually flashing a “that’s weird” type of look. And most likely I am. Through the years, I’ve witnessed most New Year’s resolutions fail. Even the internet is full of statistics and theories on why many people don’t succeed at their new year’s goals. Certainly, I am no expert to dig deep and project the answers. I am only a person who feels passionately that every sunrise is: A blank page. Worthy of evaluating and planning. Every day. Not just January 1. Years ago, during the New Year holiday, I’d been asked to speak at a women’s conference. Shortly before, I learned that many women who’d been victimized would attend. Prior to the event, I’d been sick, feeling depleted and ill prepared of anything encouraging to offer. Questions of what a writer could possibly say to inspire these deserving women plagued me. After a heartfelt prayer in my office, I realized the answer had been on my desk all along. Lying before me was a blank piece of paper and a valiant knight who held a silver pen to me in a genuflecting pose—a penholder gifted to me by my children. A thought struck me. “We are the authors of our days,” I whispered, a vision unfolding. “If we focus on each page, writing it carefully, it connects to the next and repeats until a remarkable story is told.” So maybe that’s why I was never fond of new year resolutions. Maybe somewhere in the back of my writer’s mind, I’d been aware that to prioritize the entire year was equivalent to a writer obsessed with the whole book when in fact it’s word by word, line by line, and page by page that if written well produces a satisfying, consistent outcome. An imaginary pen…. When I spoke at the event, I mentioned this image. I also encouraged the audience not to relinquish their pens to others to write their days for them. For those people who’ve mistreated us, or those who would like to ink the pages of our days with harbored memories, it’s time to remove our pens from their fingers. They do not have the right to script our life’s story. After all, each new day offers a blank page that uniquely belongs to you, and only you. It’s yours to write. At the end of the conference, the response was powerfully memorable. I concluded my speech the same way I’ll close this vignette—with a question…. Are you ready to write the pages of your days? If so, I encourage you to: Pick up your pen (you own it, remember?) Dip it into the inkwell of grand possibilities. And begin writing your days with the care, love, hope, and healing that only its true author can design. By the end of the year, resolutions may not be necessary. You may just be holding a masterpiece in your hands. ~Karina Garrison
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