Andy Lien

Merry Christmas.

It’ s the metformin weight loss clomid day after Christmas and, though I sent out my Christmas cards, I have yet to write my Christmas letter.  For one thing, I haven’t had a working printer in a long, long time…for another, I haven’t known what to say.  I suppose that I could tell you about what’s on the cover of the card as there are reasons why I chose these photos out of 10,000 that I’d taken this past year.

Counterclockwise from the bottom left: There’s my constant companion, Grendel, who makes me laugh and keeps my life soft and light; my trusty steed on the beach of the Outer Banks with the jellyfish-filled Atlantic Ocean in the background and a doozy of a storm to come, my happiest afternoon this past year; a sign from the switchback-filled road leading to remote Holden Village in the Pacific Northwest, a not-so-subtle representation of my life; Grendel looking absolutely adorable and cuddly again and as usual; and a handheld self-portrait of a person who usually isn’t the subject, but wanted to record a wonderful moment overlooking one of the Finger Lakes in New York.  A story can be told about each of the photos but, beyond extrapolating them to say that I’ve had an adventuresome year with my Jeep and my dog, they don’t tell much of a story all together.

It’s odd, having a blog.  With as much writing as I do on Facebook, on Twitter, and on my blog, I guess you’d think that my Christmas letter has been written in increments all year long.  I could just pick and choose from what I’ve already typed and published.  But, that’s not the case.  When I think of Facebook and my multiple posts per day, those document happenings in my life more than offer a synopsis.  Twitter punctuates.  The blog elongates.  Nothing encapsulates.

So, I’ll try to do it here.

My life had been fairly predictable before 2010.  One foot in front of the other, I progressed from college to job to job to job…each time attaining better and more.  Better pay, more responsibility.  More experience.  Better standards of living.  More notoriety, better reach.  Goals were obvious–better and more in my professional life, better and more in my personal life.

2010 was a year that has been framed by joblessness. More and better came to a screeching halt when I lost my job in August of 2009. At the risk of sounding dramatic, not a day goes by that it’s not on my mind.  Whether I’ve been trying to freelance and make a go at my own business, looking for a job, trying to pay my bills, or feeling guilty for having a good day on the beach…joblessness has been at the fore.  It can’t not be.

And, each day I haven’t had a job, I’ve had to reconsider how I define myself.  Contrary to what I had believed before, I am not better and more because of the job I hold.  Likewise, I will not do a job to become better and get more.  Instead, my better and more have been redefined.  I have gotten a better perspective and have become a more thoughtful person each day I’ve had to improvise my life.  The lack of predictability has made me into a person with more insight and better judgment.  More patience and better decisions.  Better investments and more returns.  More deliberation and better relationships.  Better spending and more conscientiousness.  Better health and more peace.

Oddly enough, I have faith that I will have a better future now more than ever.

Faith.  What a word.  I have faith in myself and the decisions I’ve made.  They usually involve lauding or learning.  Lauding when the decisions are good ones…and learning when they weren’t.  Either way, I have faith that my future will be great.  Much of what my future will involve depends on other people, true, but I also have faith in the decisions of others.  If I am meant to do something, I will.  If I am not, I won’t.  But, where I used to think I was controlling my future by making sure that my trajectory included everything that was more or better, I’ve now relinquished that idea as its outlook was actually quite limited.

It’s freeing, to have faith that there is a longview that I just can’t quite see yet.  It’s comforting that, though my days are sometimes wrought with worry, I will have an amazing life.  Both who I am as well as the choices I make will stand for nothing less.

I have 2010 to thank for this faith.

And I think to myself, “What a wonderful world.”

All my best to you and yours in 2011.

Love,
Andy