Every fall there is a report that goes out of my office. Eight or ten people each compose a review of the past year, including what they aspired to and what came to pass. To make it easier the secretary sent me a copy of what I wrote last year.

I didn't know what to think.

It was a concise description of the twelve months between then and now. I could have simply reprinted it. Is that progress? Is it stagnation? Should I feel hopeless? Or confidant that I have stayed the course? There are goals I wish were thriving that are merely limping. Yet I include them because I still believe in them. 

Rereading my own convictions was a chance to reflect on them. How well did those priorities still fit? Because my job came with no description, I make it up as I go along. What does support for marriage and family look like? How do I serve people both in and out of relationships? How can an event or vignette reach those whose commitment is resolute, fragile, theoretical, shattered, or in the future?

Marriage itself is perhaps lacking in a job description. There are lofty words about feeling another's joy as joy in oneself, but what does that translate to when I stand in front of a sink full of dishes? 

There are segments of my life with John that are an improvement over what they were a year ago. At least I think there are. Others goals are pretty much at a stand still. But I keep trying because I still believe in them.