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Fallen Short But Falling Upward: Reflections for the New Year

Tracey Dyck 12 Comments
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How often do we inflict burdens of our own making on ourselves? Expectations of who we should be, how much we should accomplish—and how fast. Especially now, near the end of a year and the beginning of the next, I find myself measuring the last twelve months. Passing judgement on how I’ve performed. Plotting out how to be more productive, more successful, more EVERYTHING next time.

Reflection is good, and so is making plans. I’m not about to tell you (or myself) to stop setting goals and trying to meet them.

But if you’re anything like me, a goal or New Year’s resolution can quickly become a self-created law. And much like the Pharisees who piled hundreds of new commandments atop the original ten, our self-imposed expectations can become a heavy weight to bear.

“So it makes no sense to me that some of you are testing God by burdening His disciples with a load that neither our forefathers nor we have been able to carry. No, we all believe that we will be liberated through the grace of the Lord Jesus—they also will be rescued in the same way.”

Peter speaking in Acts 15:10-11 (VOICE)

No matter how perfectly I craft my goals at the beginning of a new year, by December I have always fallen short somewhere. Granted, I’m often further along than I would have been without a goal at all, but the point is, I do fall short. And in that gap between where I landed and where I meant to be, there lies the disappointment, the condemnation, the hundreds of “Yes, but not quites…”

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But MUST I Write?

Tracey Dyck 8 Comments

I find myself in that strange no man’s land that all writers encounter: the land of in between.

It is here that I am both waiting for one story to spread its wings and sail into the wide world… and forging a path into the briars of a new story. And, to my chagrin, making only slow, halting progress on both fronts.

It is here that all manner of enemies from the other side of the war may happen across my path.

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Silmaril Awards – Most Mischievous Imp Winner!

Tracey Dyck 36 Comments

Not far from Hobbiton, tucked away in the village of Bywater, stands the Green Dragon Inn. And within the cozy confines of this pub, a jolly good celebration is about to take place. The sounds of laughter—and downright guffaws, in some cases—is already filtering out into the early evening air.

Inside, warm golden light spills over a crowd that would ordinarily be much too big for the Green Dragon… yet somehow, the entire audience fits around the well-worn wooden tables. Perhaps Pippin persuaded a wizard or two to work some magic and broaden the space.

Which is a very good thing for this year’s hostess (yours truly), because her home has been a madhouse—first crammed full with sixty-five imp nominees, then with the five remaining pranksters—and it’s nice to have some room to breathe now. Even if it is rather loud and talkative in here.

As food and drink is passed around, a short, curly-haired hobbit hops up onto the center table. “Well then, I s’ppose we should get started!” he crows by way of announcement.

A roar of approval erupts from the readers and characters present.

“I’m Pippin, otherwise known as Peregrin Took, and I think we impish folk have worn our poor hostess out.” He sends a twinkling grin toward a young woman slumped in a chair in the back corner. From the look of her mussed bedhead and the dark circles under her eyes, she’s frazzled to the point of exhaustion. “Which is why,” Pippin continues, “I told her she could bow out of today’s ceremony. So you’re all stuck with ME for the rest of this party! But not to worry, I’ve done this gig a fair few times, and everything is under control.”

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Silmaril Awards 2021 Voting – Top 5 Mischievous Imps

Tracey Dyck 22 Comments

Folks, I have lost all trust in humanity. After housing the sixty-five nominated imps at my place for the past week, I can’t open doors without being jump-scared… can’t eat a sandwich without something suspect being slipped between my salami… and can’t get a wink of sleep for fear of being jolted out of bed by some horrific crash upstairs.

It certainly doesn’t help that Josiah’s nearly three dozen henchmen were ALSO sharing our quarters. They no doubt influenced the imps towards more dastardly deeds than usual.

And Pippin? Well, that hobbit has been no help at all. He spent the week in absolute stitches, laughing at my expense, and is actually at the walk-in clinic as we speak, complaining of a very sore stomach. That’s what you get, you fool of a Took.

Now, my co-hosts have tried to be helpful. Christine did offer to send dragons to help wrangle the imps into order, but I declined, saying it might be best to keep all open flames well away from the likes of my company. Kenzie also offered to send a few wise counselors over, but none of them showed up. I think they got distracted by a philosophical discussion about the merits of courage and forgot all about my troubles.

But no worries. After five years of hosting under my belt, I knew what I was signing up for.

I just hope my Silmaril Awards Host Insurance will cover the busted front door, the damage done to my living room couches by glittering pink slime, and the gaping hole blown into my backyard…

Now then! I’d better introduce the nasty delightful imps who rose to the top of the heap, so that you know who to vote for. Without further ado, I present… THIS YEAR’S TOP FIVE MISCHIEVOUS IMPS!

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