Resolving not to make resolutions

NEW YEAR'S resolutions humble me.

While I set out to aspire for greater heights, at the end of the day I end up seeing myself in the lows, unable to measure up to my self-drawn yardstick.

Eyeing greatness, I only bare my own smallness. Even when a self-appointed goal is finally within my grasp, a trivial mistake, an unrestrained temper, a slip in discipline, or even simply an unexplainable emptiness just as easily unmakes my sense of accomplishment.

This year, therefore, I resolve to stop making resolutions. Instead, I offer a prayer to acknowledge the fact that drawing strength from a vastly empty wellspring, oneself, is like roaming through the desert. Through prayer, I will instead head straight for the Fountainhead whose water fills the ocean.

First, I pray for strength greater than mine. I have always easily expended my energy by spreading myself thin, straining myself in work, cramming towards deadline, going through the day's routine, or burdening myself with unnecessary tasks. When I'm worn out, I easily wear out those around me as well with my quick temper. I pray for greater focus and efficiency in my tasks, the wisdom to set priorities, the diligence to pursue accepted work within the promised time and the grace to carry on uninspiring routine.

I thank God for my work. In these times of economic uncertainty and mounting unemployment, I thank God for continuing to bless my livelihood, sustaining me through the gloomy days and extending bridges when the turbulent waters seemed impassable. I may be struggling to make ends meet with a shrunk income, but that has enhanced my appreciation of every blessing that comes my way.

I pray for the courage to move on after losing a job, receiving a pay cut, or failing in business. Though the days ahead are overcast, I can see that God still looks after flowers that bloom even in mid-winter. I pray for sustenance until I find the next opportunity to start life anew.

I pray for patience to listen to my children's repetitive questions, to hold back my temper in the face of my spouse's outburst, to resolve family disagreements in their proper time. May I have more patience to listen to unspoken messages, not taking feelings for granted nor speaking too loud to hear only myself.

I pray to forgive and forget the people that have hurt me and to have the breadth of understanding to be in their shoes. I pray that I move on with my life unyoked by grudges as I extend my blessings for them to move on with theirs. May I always see that the horizon is too vast for people to crowd each other in if they can't see common interests or share the same principles. May I stop counting the losses I've made in badly invested friendships or business partnerships, but instead take stock of the lessons I've learned with them.

Henceforth, I pray for greater honesty in my relationships, less desperation to please others, and the ability to say "No" if it means avoidance of false expectations. May I find even just one or two friends with whom I can grow together, nourishing each other's person.

I pray that I can smile at all times, grateful for the good times and hopeful in bad times. May I always appreciate whatever I have and wherever I am now. I know that every moment of glory I've had in the past was always because of a second chance, and that if I ever fail now, I can always build on it anytime.*

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