Most of my New Years have gone unmarked by New Year’s resolutions.  Although resolution is not a far jump from a simple, announced-to-self decision, for me combining it with “New Year’s” makes me feel like an inexperienced batter starting any professional ball game.  “You mean, I’m supposed to just hit the ball?  I don’t have that much power over my resolve.”

I will never know, then, why on January 1, 2009, I resolved to make my bed every day for the rest of the year.  I guess I thought, after 26 years of non-bed making, “I’ll give it a try.” I will tell you right now, from somewhere deep within me, faithful resolve started bubbling up as soon as the thought came to mind.  (I know it’s an odd thing to resolve and so  I repeat, “I don’t know why I chose this over all my other weaknesses.”)

January 1.  January 2.  January 3.  And the days went on.  Each morning, somewhere in the midst of my tired haze came a real Nike attitude.  My bed got made and I started hitting more base hits than ever before.  This started my head to tilt.

My mother used to tell me that making the bed sets the tone for the day.  Imagine my surprise when I discovered just how right she had been.  (This is the head tilt.  The “hmm” moment, if you will.)  As I worked my way through February, I noticed that the usual malaise of a Minnesota winter was actually less than normal.  Making my bed every day really did help me prepare better for work and my after school activities.  I gradually become more organized and more happy with myself.  Simply seeing a flat, neat surface that I knew would be ready for my collapse at midnight, reassured me that I could do the rest of the day.  In fact, making my bed became a source of great comfort to me.

In my resolve came more resolve.  In my steadfastness of action came a steadfastness of heart and spirit.

I upheld my end (the only end) of the bargain through most of the year.  I took a hiatus in July when my busy summer theater production schedule overwhelmed even my pillows.  I also took a couple weeks off in November, again when the theater took control.  Okay, yes, there were some random days of un-madeness sprinkled through May and December.  But overall, I made my bed every day of 2009.  I count that as a home run.

(At this point my sister would tell me that I’m just trying to be a winner while not actually winning.  But I would say that 300/365 is pretty darn awesome for a girl that was previously about 100/9490.)

At the end of the year, I felt like life didn’t hit me so hard, like my head was finally starting to level out after years of imbalance issues.  Then life pulled back and let out a backdoor slider.

I made contact and found myself with a base hit, once more.  But I entered 2010 a battered player.  Love, honesty, despair, and deceit all stood up at the bench edging for a moment of play.