You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow.

Sometimes, I pretend I have a voice like this. 
Alas, I do not.

I heard this song and I thought, "What an adequate way to express my feelings toward 2010." Now, I don't really care about New Year's, never have. In fact, I'm usually in bed before midnight. However, I've had ample time to sit and ponder everything from my propensity to misinterpret (which has manifested itself in my entire family assuring me Russia is inherently evil...long story) to my latest budgeting scheme. I thought back over this long and short year: divided neatly into two radically different parts. Truly, I can now praise God for all He has done, even though some of it hurt like the dickens. I've realized that I can sing because I'm free in Christ, and I must never allow a human being or idea or passion or a million other things to take His place.
So long 2010! I'm glad you're done.

As for you, 2011...show me what you can do. I ain't never scared.

Littlefield

Upon graduation, I practically ran out of town. One of our fine modern day bards might say I chucked a deuce. At any rate, I felt like my dreams were too big and too lofty for Littlefield. I looked around town and my skin crawled. I held the opinion that Littlefield is a vortex: if you hang around the edge you'll get sucked back in. The only way to avoid a lifetime of gossip and football games was to get the heck out of Dodge and stay out.
Whenever people at college talk about going home or reminisce about the past, I have to stifle my gag reflex. In my head I think, "Oh ho ho. You couldn't pay me to go back to that swirling dust bowl. I'm so much better than that."

Well, I'm here to apologize. I was driving home on Highway 54, a route I could drive with my eyes closed, and I was struck by a thought:
I thought about all the people that loved me.

I thought about how growing up in a small West Texas town instilled values in me that are worth far more than gold: how to work hard, how to look out for your fellow man, how to fear the Lord, and how to give thanks.

I thought about how Littlefield is part of my heritage. No matter where I go I'll always be a small town girl. I'll always be loyal and true and "pledge my might to honor and right".

I thought about the land: so desolate and flat and utterly lonely. Yet each day God displays His splendor with awesome magnificence: streaking the sky with colors so rich and brilliant an artist's palette could never render them justice.

I could continue, but all these sentimental notions are starting to feel sticky. I'll just close with this: I'm glad I grew up where I did. For all my bluster, I won't ever forget where I came from.
That is a promise.

Now to the Lord sing praises, All you within this place!

"God rest you merry, gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay.
For Jesus Christ our Savior,
Was born on Christmas Day;
To save us all from Satan’s power,
When we were gone astray.


From God our heavenly Father,
A blessed angel came.
And unto certain shepherds,
Brought tidings of the same,
How that in Bethlehem was born,
The Son of God by name:


Fear not, then said the Angel,
Let nothing you affright,
This day is born a Savior,
Of virtue, power, and might;
So frequently to vanquish all,
The friends of Satan quite;


Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood,
Each other now embrace;
This holy tide of Christmas,
Doth bring redeeming grace.


O tidings of comfort and joy!"