Cookies Goals… subject to change

I hate making New Year’s resolutions. But every year for 20 years my husband, Allen-the planner, encourages me to make a list of goals for the upcoming year. The goals to which he so euphemistically refers is an obvious code word for resolutions. There are a lot a things I plan for now-being a good wife and mom-taking care of myself physically and spiritually and meeting my daily obligations as a worker or volunteer. There are a lot of things I planned for in the past with such thought and care- finishing my college education in less than four years, my wedding, my career, all five of my pregnancies, my grocery list and meals when my children were younger…. But, as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that there are some things that just happen that I didn’t plan. My mother dying when she was only 59, losing three babies(2 died in utero-one at 14 weeks, one at 16 weeks and then I miscarried at 8 weeks-at the time it was really tough), moving away from a great group of friends 10 years ago this Spring and finally admitting that I am an alcoholic. No, these definitely were not part of my plan. Life just happens sometimes.

So today- like I always do-I sat down and wrote my goals for the year. It at least makes Allen feel like he’s having some sort of positive impact on me. It’s kind of our little tradition that makes him think he’s in charge. At least we start the year off that way.

As always I have the usual suspects-more family time, less food, more exercise, less cursing, more prayer…… but like any good recovering alcoholic my most important plans are to live one day at a time, take life on life’s terms, plan not to take a drink today and be of maximum service to God and to others. Other than these important goals-this year I want to write more, talk less, and be honest about who I am without worrying what others think or say about me. If I put all of these days together- then on January 1, 2009 even if life throws me a few curve balls- I think I’ll say that 2008 was a very good year.

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