In January, when your resolutions become forgotten promises, may you be blessed with a voice saying, “I like you just the way you are.”
In February, when your nose chafes and your lips crack, may you be blessed with cooling balms and steaming beverages.
In March, when your bracket inevitably underperforms expectations, may you be blessed with blossoms and the shoots of green leaves.
In April, when mud tracks across your entryway and your garden grows roots, may you be blessed with patience, humility and grace.
In May, when teachers proclaim endings and the sun proclaims beginnings, may you be blessed with the eternal possibility of “between.”
In June, when the water is too cold and the cement is too hot, may you be blessed with joyful shouts and splashes.
In July, when time warps in a way that is impossibly both treeline-blurring and puddle-stagnant, may you be blessed with a fresh breath to fill your lungs.
In August, when sweat trickles rivers across your porous skin, may you be blessed with evaporation.
In September, when your cursor blinks uselessly against your to-do list, may you be blessed with pleasant daydreams.
In October, when you begin to gripe about your neighbor’s Christmas decorations, may you be blessed with an angel who reminds you that the lights are a symbol of hope in the darkness.
In November, when you celebrate saints, may you be blessed by their memory.
In December, when the wax runs from candle wicks in stalactite tears, may you be blessed with heavenly peace.
In the year to come, when life provides moments of unparalleled joy, unprecedented sorrow, or inexplicable happenstance, may you be blessed in remembering that you are a beloved child of God.
— Walter Canter, pastor of Blue Ridge Presbyterian Church