And here is where the words roll up the screen, Star Trek style:

I saw in the baby new year -- the 9pm version -- with my parents and my brother, my sister and her wee family, and my cute goddaughters and their parents. There were fireworks*, people jammed all over the paths lining the oversized pond (the one at the bottom of our hill, that likes to think it's a lake) and then there were queues for ice cream and finally peanut butter Cold Rock with nutella mixed in, dripping all down my fingers because I couldn't eat it quicker than December was melting it.

At about ten, I got in the car and drove to a friend's place about half an hour away. His new house is still in christening mode and a bunch of people were gathered for games and conversation (yeah, we party hard). Midnight snuck up on us and we fumbled through a really rushed countdown before the happynewyears began. About ten minutes later, Tim remarked on our somewhat pathetic countdown efforts and suggested a do-over. I was so on that. So four of us (the four most mature?) raced outside and did a proper countdown with shouts and cheers, and that felt like the right way to see in a new year.

"So is anyone making any resolutions?" asked Emma, whom I'd just met for the first time. She looked right at me and I was startled into saying the thing that was at the forefront of my mind.

"Just a word, really, one word to sort of... guide my approach to the year" -- or something like that. And though thoughout the week before I'd had three words jostling for the supremacy, three words which would all make sense, all be worthwhile ways to sally forth into a new year, when she asked what the word was, it just popped out, and my resolution was fully birthed.

"Boldness."

"Boldness?" asked another friend, Cath.

"Yep," I said. "Basically I'm a wimp."

Cath raised her eyebrows. "No."

"Yes." And when she looked skeptical, I had to confess: "I'm pretty good at faking brave."

So.  

Bold. That is my word for the year, and if it sounds similar to things I've said in previous years, then that makes sense, because it's the same thing God's been drumming into my brain for a while now. 'Because I'm scared' doesn't cut it as an excuse any more, even just in my own head, and though I've been getting better at not using 'it freaks me out' as an escape hatch, I definitely still have a way to go.

It took a small dose of bold even just to write about it here, because part of being a wimp is being scared of failure, and part of being scared of failure is being intimidated by the judgement of others. Hi, others. Now I've told you about my plans, you are perfectly able to watch me fail. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but notice the smack-in-the-face-with-a-wet-fish obviousness of last night's devotional reading, though. Philippians 1:6. It's a good promise for a new year.

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*A kid about eight years old was roaring NO GET IT AWAAAAAY MAKE THEM STOOOOP and a tiny baby was cooing and kicking her legs and grinning.