I don't make New Year's resolutions. I haven't for many years. For a while there, every year it was the same old "lose 20 pounds, save more money, have more quality time with the people I love" routine. All very worthy goals, but a little vague, and because of that vagueness, almost impossible to achieve.

The last few years, what I've done instead is more "taking stock" towards the end of the year, while that declicious lull between Christmas and New Years affords a little time for introspection.

This year it was file-cleaning, specifically, that helped me to take inventory of the past year. I keep an old-fashioned paper file for every Sunday worship service at St. Stoic, in addition to the electronic files that I have on my computers. They are labeled with the date, sermon title, Scriptures for the day, and any special events, such as Communion, Baptism, Officer Ordination, etc. Inside the file is the bulletin, written prayers, sermon, sermon notes, any clippings that I found helpful for that week. It is "worship in a manila folder": just add congregation. It was fun to look back over them. I actually have every worship folder I have used since my seminary internship still lined up in one drawer. (I guess that's clue number one that I'm still kind of new at this.) Together they represent so much study and prayer, so much time spent "noodling" with a thought or a word, or a line of song, poetry or a phrase of the Scripture passage.

I've got triumphs and some less-than-stellar moments in that drawer. I can pull out the personal story that made the congregation fairly howl with laughter. I could point out the preaching moment in D's memorial homily when I really truly didn't think I was going to make it through the day, and the one when I knew I was. There are a few stories, poems, and anecdotes that only brought puzzled looks, too, lest you think that I am some preaching whiz.

When I finished my romp down pulpit memory lane, I turned to my online files, then my blog. But I didn't review the whole thing. I started with this past month of December, and a pattern was as clear as, well, as the letters on the screen. This past month, it seems that I have written quite a few "Help Me!" posts. The month started with a tragic suicide of my son's friend, and ended with an explosive family spat. Blechhh.

There is a postive side to this: I have discovered what a supportive, loving, generous network of blogpals I have. There has never been a time that I wrote something painful or frustrating that I clearly needed to articulate, that someone didn't offer a prayer, a hug, or a supportive word. That we have found each other somehow in cyberspace is amazing. Such a blessing!

But I'm afraid that my cries for help and support have become tedious even to me.

Anne Lamott says that there are really only two kinds of prayer: Help me! and Thank you! (paraphrased) I feel the need to do more of the second kind for a while. I'm going to try to change the tenor of this place--to make it more a place where I can talk about the blessings in my life. Time for a fresh start.

Watch this space...