Tomorrow is March 1. Or December 91. (I wrote about December 43 a while back.)

Some of us aren’t ready to commit to goals for 2023, so we’re still hanging on to 2022. (We aren’t ready for Lent, either.)

Though we think we haven’t committed to goals, or to resolutions, (or to whatever we call them), we’ve still been making choices, still been living, still been committed to whatever our inertia has been.

Which is more fine than we have been led to believe.

Some of us don’t need to accomplish major changes or new goals. We don’t have to learn one new thing every day or read 47 books in 2023.

Some of us simply don’t have time to waste on frivolous things like that as we care for aging parents and aging selves. As we adapt to empty nests and empty hearts. As we commit to existing through the chemo or grandchildren (or both).

Paul wrote to a group of people in Thessolonika. After acknowledging their love for others, he said, “Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more, and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”

Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life. To not feel the need to have opinions on everything. To not feel the need to express what opinions you have. To find quiet ways to love.

To acknowledge the calendar without dread of choosing the wrong goals.