Standing at the edge of 2023
…and a whole lot of gratitude for 2022
Hi friend,
Can you feel it? That sensation of your toes pressed up against this brief window of time that separates 2022 from 2023? That feeling of your soul knowing you are here, in this year, and tomorrow will bring a whole lot of hope for newness — even though the hands on the clock spin in the same way as they do every other day, and each day rhythmically greets us like an ocean wave.
But still… there’s this quiet sparkle humming beneath with the anticipation of a new day, new year, new goals, new hopes, new dreams, new intentions, new opportunities to bring heaven to earth and to serve others in new and unexpected ways.
New chances to become more tender toward yourself, to love the gift of your life a bit more deeply, to unwrap holy moments, and to lean into the vulnerability of what 2023 will bring.
All of it is a gift.
As we wobble, crawl, rest, hop, or run through whatever this day holds, my prayer is that we pause often to breathe, to reflect upon 2022, and to hold space for what surfaces. Perhaps we grab a journal to move through the threads of memories and emotions that arise, or some colored pencils and a sketch pad. Maybe we scroll back through photos from the last year and let our body remember all we’ve navigated, celebrated, and overcome together. Maybe we get our 2022 planner out and flip back through the projects, doodles, meetings, gatherings, and memories to excavate nuggets of wisdom to carry into — or discern what to set down more often — in 2023.
Maybe we take this time to look around our home and decide what’s no longer serving us, and pack it up to donate or sell through a garage sale. (Hi, it’s me 🙋🏻♀️ — with each burst of energy that’s come while quarantining over the last week and a half, I’ve cleaned out almost every drawer and corner in our bedroom. My home office is next…)
Maybe we pick up the phone and text or call someone who we’ve lost touch with, and make a plan to connect with them in the coming months.
Maybe we decide to sign up for that class we’ve contemplated for a while and look ahead toward the humble joy of being a student again.
Maybe we honor the fact that 2023 begins on Sabbath for many of us, and so we spend these last 24 hours of 2022 preparing our homes and our souls to begin the year honoring this practice. (Check out Ruth Haley Barton’s book, Embracing the Rhythms of Work and Rest — one of the books I read in the last week that’s caused me to wholly rethink my weekly rhythms in 2023.)
Whatever you do, do not rush through this day as just another day.
Allow the threshold of another year to stir something within,
to offer permission to be still and reflect,
to practice gratitude for what 2022 held,
to allow space for some much-needed closure and/or grieving,
to lean into the vulnerability of hope for what 2023 will offer,
and to allow our souls to catch up in the process.
💛
What about you?
For this last post of the year, I’m opening up the comments section for anyone to chime in on what you’re doing to honor the shift from 2022 to 2023! Or if you have a word of the year or intention for 2023, please feel free to share it below!
(My word for 2022 was hope, and for 2023, it’s peace. More on that in January...)
One more thing — after a year of posts, I’ve dropped Seeking the Sacred’s annual paid subscription rate to $55/year, with an extra 10% off opportunity that closes January 6th. (That’s only about $4 a month, and will likely cover a cup of coffee or tea while I write!)
Thank you to those of you who have generously supported my writing by giving to this newsletter — it means the absolute world to me and I am deeply, deeply grateful. My wholehearted hope is that these little notes offer a bit of encouragement, support, practical resources, and tenderness as you serve others in whatever way you’ve been designed and equipped to serve.
And my prayer is that they invite you to continue seeking the Sacred in all you do as you serve others… 🤲
Happy New Year, beloveds.
Be well, breathe deep, and remember how truly loved you are as you are in this moment.
Kindly,
Holly
website | book | podcast
follow along on: instagram | twitter | facebook