This morning I contemplated the year that is almost past. I wrote down some things that I remember from 2021:-
Hurriedly going on holiday a week earlier than planned and only just missing the Gauteng lockdown,
The unrest in June/July which was closer to us in KwaZulu Natal when we spent two months in a motorhome,
Ever-changing Covid regulations and getting vaccinated,
A last minute decision to visit my mother for her birthday in September.
Omicron being identified in South Africa.
As the year comes to an end, I can put a full stop and close the handwritten book.
Before me is a clean page, a new book with nothing yet written in it. I wonder what will be written on 2022’s pages. As I prepare to pick up my pen to at least write a heading, I stop. Am I going to write the new year, or is God? Experience tells me God always writes history. I am like a character in a novel. God is the author. He endowed me with gifts, a personality, a character, hopes, fears, dreams. I react in certain ways to pressure.
Like all good novels, 2022 will have conflict. How I react and cope is up to me. That will make the difference between a good story and a bad one. What story would I like to tell when 2022 is history?
I don’t know what 2022 holds. But I know the God who holds 2022 in His hands. I trust Him because I know He loves me.
Father God, Author of all things, as I stand before a new year, I ask You once again to reign in my life. May my decisions be based on Your guidance and my knowledge of Your will. I commit my future to You. Amen.