Spring always reminds me of what’s possible. It’s difficult not to dream during this season. As branches begin to bear blossoms, I start to think about what I want, hope for, and need. Some people resolve to change in January—to become something, quit something, or try something for the first time. I’m not one for such proclamations of life, but that’s not to say I don’t have ambitions. Spring is a time when nature reminds me that life carries on. And so it’s also a time when I start assessing my hopes, needs, and wants.
I hope to be so fully myself that no space is left to compare myself to others or be judgmental. I want to mature into myself—grow and remain comfortable in my own skin, and live trusting God with all of my dreams. I want to live a life that fits me well, one that I know belongs to me and which I’m happy to own. I don’t want to waste time and energy trying to be someone I’m not. I don’t want my happiness to depend on the happiness or approval of anyone else.
I need love. Love for myself and for others. I want to be good at love—and not just with the people I think deserve it. I can be short-tempered. I can be impatient. I’d like to become more generous with forgiveness and stingier with judgments. Those I love, I want to love them well. And those I find it difficult to like or love, I hope to do a better job of accepting them.
I want to become my best editor as opposed to my toughest critic. I don’t want to be self-defeating or overly apologetic. I don’t want to let my insecurities get in my way. Doubts and prudence are fine, but they shouldn’t be the only forces that drive me. I want to have the courage to fail and the moxie to try. I don’t want a fear of failure to keep me immobilized.
I hope to be ever content and satisfied. Even if I find myself dreaming of more or pursuing improvements, I don’t want that to diminish my satisfaction with what I already have or have already accomplished. And no matter how great those around me grow, let me never be envious of others.
I need to keep investing in my community of friends and family. They are the ones I can go to when I need a safe place, acceptance, and ideas I might not have thought of on my own. They cheer me on. They build me up. They challenge me to grow beyond my comfort zone.
I hope to cultivate a spirit of generosity. I don’t want to give because I expect to get something. I want to give with no strings attached, not even an expectation of getting some gratitude back. Even if I never hear the word “thanks,” I want to give cheerfully and consistently. Time and again I have been the recipient of magnanimous generosity. I want to give what I can—skills, ideas, money.
I need time. I want my life to be marked by a general state of leisure. I don’t want to let the world rush me—compelling me to go ever faster. I can’t live at a digital pace. I need time to slow down and think, to truly engage with those around me, to live, to savor my emotions, and to sleep.