The Half Empty/Half Full Glass of 2010
2010. It’s done and dusted now. I can’t work out whether I’m glad to see the last of it or full of gratitude for having survived it. To be honest there’s a little bit of both sentiments swirling around my emotions. 2010 has been a challenge. At times it’s been a real struggle. Don’t get me wrong. There have also been plenty of moments of sheer magic and joy, richness and deep satisfaction. It’s just that they have not been as often as I would have liked or hoped.
Queen Elizabeth described her year in 1992 as an annus horribilis (which is Latin for “horrible year” and not referring to a part of the anatomy). How depressing! It must have been a really bad year for her. In contrast, I prefer to think of my 2010 as a mixed bag – some highs, some lows, good and bad times, struggles and joys. Perhaps if I was Sean Fitzpatrick I might mutter something about it being a year of two halves.
Nevertheless, I must admit I’m a “half-empty glass” kind-of-guy. Many have been the times when I’ve cursed my temperament. I’d prefer to be an optimist (or as Mrs Malaprop might say “an optician”). Seeing the positive, the potential, the upside, the good – this is much more invigorating than seeing the problems, the negatives and the bad. To be sure, the lenses we view the glass through determine an awful lot.
But is being a pessimist (or “realist” as I sometimes quip) all bad? The truth is this half-empty way of viewing things is as much a gift as it is a curse. For it’s my scepticism and cautiousness that allows me to see potential obstacles in the future – challenges that may need to be confronted in order for hopes and expectations to be met. Whether this is played out in a board room, a business plan, a mentoring session, a piece of writing, or an organisational audit, I’ve come to be thankful for the insight God regularly gives me to see stuff that an optimist might not pick up.
It’s not that I don’t have hopes and dreams. Nor that I am negative about the future. I am supremely optimistic when it comes to God’s purposes in our lives. It’s just that in the midst of the hard stuff, I often struggle to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Over the years I’ve tried numerous self-talk statements to counter my natural pessimism (such as “what’s the worst thing that could happen here and can you live with it?”) And as I have matured I most definitely have become more balanced in my assessment of how things really are. Even so, I have to accept and own that the same tendency that causes me to think that my rugby team is going to lose, when they’re twenty points up with ten minutes remaining, can also negatively skewer my view of life.
Which brings me back to 2010. Three brief reflections will let you in on some of the highs and lows of my past year. Nothing particularly insightful here – just attempts to honestly reflect on the previous twelve months.
Mortality…Vitality
Jill and I have been to more funerals in 2010 than we can ever remember. However, the death of one friend sticks out. Alan battled cancer for several months. My irregular coffee excursions with him over his last months were treasured times for both of us. He didn’t want to fight the cancer alone and he certainly didn’t want to die by himself. Alan had friends coming out his ears, which was unsurprising given that he’d invested in friendships all his life. He was a man with a big heart and a beaming smile, always with a ready welcome. The journey must have been frightening for him. My last memories are holding his hand on the sofa and then in the hospice; a pale, somewhat confused father and husband with lots to keep living for, caught in the headlights of the proverbial oncoming double-decker bus.
So the year has left me with an overwhelming reminder of my own mortality and of the fragility of life. Nothing can be taken for granted. Our health is a gift to be stewarded and appreciated. But life is not solely a series of causes and effects. Neither is it “fair” or “even-handed”. We cannot control how things pan out. Each of us gets dealt a hand and we must face up to the reality of advancing years and declining faculties.
Okay, so that’s the top half of the glass. Sound morbid? Then what about the bottom 50%? Is there any liquid there? You bet. Reminding myself that it’s not how long I live, but how I live that is most important is a good starting point. Rather than pine for the health of youth, or worry about ebbing capabilities, I’m mindful of Andy Dufresne’s words in Shawshank Redemption – you can either “Get busy living or get busy dying”. Each day, each year is a gift to be lived well and to be given away in the service of God and others. That’s true vitality. Long may I live this maxim out – for whatever time I have left here on this earth.
Brokenness…Growth
2010 also caused me to stare down the barrel at my own brokenness and dysfunction. Some glimpses I’ve had of myself this past year have not been pretty to look at. Facing up to the ugly, the inadequate, the insecure, the self-preoccupied has been difficult at times. If the truth be told, I thought I was further along the road to wholeness than I really am. The gap between my words and reality has at times seemed an embarrassing chasm. Instinct has been to cover it up as quickly as possible so that no one will notice. But there’s the problem – you can’t become more whole when you’re expending energy trying to look whole. I am reminded that maturity is a multi-faceted matter. There are elements of my emotional, relational, psychological, social and spiritual health that are reasonably mature, but there are other parts where I still am a child and need to grow up.
Yet the half full part of me rejoices in the distance I’ve come this past year. I finish 2010 as a slightly more whole person than I began the year as. And as I’ve said many times, the fact that I’m a broken person doesn’t mean I’m useless. Just that I am not yet the complete, whole person God intends me to become. Where there is growth there is reason for celebration. And for optimism about the future.
Regrets…Opportunities
Life is full of choices. Many small; some big. And often a whole collection of small choices end up having big consequences. Like most of us, with the help of God and others, I’ve made lots of good choices. I have much to be thankful for. However, there’s a bag full of regrets that I’ve collected along the way of my life’s journey. Words I’ve said, words I’ve not said; things I’ve done, things I’ve not done; decisions that were unwise, others that should have been made.
The “half empty” part of me tends to wallow in such regrets. At times I found myself drowning in a pool of “if onlys”, powerless and defeated. However, the “half full” side has reminded me that what’s done is done. Letting go of the regrets and moving on is possible. Indeed, it’s essential if I’m to grab hold with both hands of the wonderful opportunities in front of me.
And so…
My natural pessimism can easily lead me to major on the difficulties of 2010. Yet, if the truth be told, this past year has been much more an annus mirabilis (a year of wonders), than an annus horribilis. A few days ago I listed all my lowlights and highlights of 2010. I was amazed to discover it was dominated by positives. And yes, almost all the “lows” were replicated on the “highs” list, as I was able to note how God had turned these tough moments into experiences of grace and change. American poet Walt Whitman captured it well: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”.
The Apostle Paul, one guy who seemed to have a good balance between half empty and half full (though he most definitely had his moments), put it this way:
Yes, I’m full of myself – after all, I’ve spent a long time in sin’s prison. What I don’t understand about myself is that I decide one way, but then I act another, doing things I absolutely despise.
I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question?
The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something completely different.
And then later in the same letter Paul adds:
That’s why I don’t think there’s any comparison between the present hard times and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what’s coming next….All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. …These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance…
…Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God’s Spirit is right alongside helping us along…He knows us far better than ourselves, knows our pregnant condition, and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. (excerpts from Romans 7-8, The Message)
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