During one of my hospital visits yesterday, I met a man from Africa. He shared with me how peaceful he felt being in the hospital for new year’s rather than out amongst the American traditionalists celebrating with rowdiness and drunkenness.

He shared how his family back home – seven hours ahead – were preparing to celebrate the new year. They will gather at church around 10pm, contemplate the year that has past and dream about the year to come – all while rejoicing and worshipping together. “If I cannot be there with them,” he said, “I am content being here in this room contemplating with them.”

As someone who does not drink, dislikes crowds, and hasn’t managed to stay awake past the New York New Year’s celebration in who knows how long, I found myself lying in bed thinking about how this African family celebrates and I started the first day of the new year journaling about just that.

A few days ago, I read an Instagram post from @trauma.mentalhealth.report, a repost from @heybobbibanks. It read that:

Kids who grew up feeling lonely may become adults who:

• Seek love where it’s not available
• Isolate themselves when things go wrong
• Are always there for others but feel invisible
• Blame themselves when people hurt them
• Feel deep emptiness &loneliness inside
• Are known by many but still feel they have no real friends or deep connections.

I wanted to repost this because it was an “aha” kind of moment in that it explained me quite well – especially the last bullet point. I refrained, though, because I did not want friends or family to see that as a cry for help. I am not currently in trouble, but I know that feeling well. I have a wonderful and loving family, but for certain circumstances – namely divorce – I have been known to say (and at least feel) like I basically raised myself from the age of fourteen. (Read my book, Child Eyes, for the semi-autobiographical-fictional tale of my childhood traumas.)

Anyway, most of us contemplate New Year’s Resolutions. I, like so many, would love to finally get the whole work out and eat right thing down this year. However, for me, I simply want to do better – to help others who feel lonely to finally feel seen – for this to be the year someone else grabs onto that pinprick of hope and lives.

My pastor shared a story this morning about a woman who always stood in line at the post office. One day, while standing in a long line, someone told her she did not have to wait. She could use the kiosk outside to buy stamps. She declined, saying that a machine never asked her about her arthritis.

A lonely woman felt seen by the friendly postal workers.

I watched another church’s online service. The pastor spoke of what they did on Christmas day. They set up a place just outside the sanctuary for drinks and desserts – for those who had nowhere to go. While many left the service with their families, dozens who would otherwise have spent the rest of the day alone, found new friends. Some wept because of the love they felt. “When people have no one else, they need the church.”

I want to be like that postal worker. I want to be like that church.

This year, I want to stop taking the easy way out – and for me easy means not having to interact with people – self-checkouts, kiosks, delivery – and I want to take time to actually see people – to build relationships – to look people in the eye.

It is time to take the project I did for class this past semester and make it a lifestyle.

Here’s to a new chance in 2023.