MILESTONES

I blinked my eyes open and stared at the ceiling. I could hear the gentle ticking of the clock in the hall, and the crackling of the oil-fired radiator under the windowsill. Everything else, presumably in all the world, was very quiet.

I'd dreamed I was caught up in an embassy siege. I guess I must have been some sort of reporter, as I didn't feel like I was on any side - though the gunfire, the panic, and me shuddering behind an upturned mahogany table, all spelled out that a side had been chosen for me, and it was up to me whether I wanted to survive.

The ceiling, the light shade, the ticking clock, and the thin sunlight through the curtains were a very welcome sight for a New Year's Day morning.

New Year's Day. Gosh. 2018. It's come quickly this time. Like a wild cousin, New Year's Eve seems to turn up, just in time to liven-up the Christmas party every year, rocking-out and boozing-up, as the seconds count down and the fireworks burst open. Then, with the grandest and oldest of headaches, a cloudy, dreary New Year usually begins like a cold shower.

Well, it doesn't have to, I suppose. The trees, beyond the crack in the curtains, wobbled in the park, catching rays of morning sunshine. I rubbed my eyes.

Two people had texted me about 'milestones'. One, my cousin, who also turns 40 in this calendar year; the other, my friend Sarah, who prayed it would be a milestone year in 'more ways than numbers'.

The Romans used milestones, all across their empire. You can still see them sometimes, on ancient Roman roads. Later civilisations, including our own of course, put up mile posts and distance counters and road signs, all intended to let travellers know exactly where they were, how far it is to where they're going, and how far they had come.

And that's where I am, I guess, this year: by a milestone. It has numbers on it, it has been here all along, waiting for me to get to it, and it tells the story of many who've already passed it. But I suspect it also does something else, something unexpected. I suspect that it reminds me that I'm still on a journey, that I have a place to go, just as much as I have a place to be. I am not lost.

"You've come a long way," it whispers, chuckling in a way that only an ancient stone could know. "But there's a lot further to go. The trick is to keep moving."

Of course, the other great thing about milestones is that they lodge, not only in the ground by the side of the road, but also in your head. You look back and remember a milestone - and it inspires you to be thankful for all the good things that happened since you met it. In fact, whenever God did something incredible in the Old Testament, the Israelites put up piles of stones - solid reminders to anyone who passed by, that at this place, something extraordinary happened.  

So I say, yes, let it be a milestone year, something to remember, something to encourage, something to inspire, whatever might happen in it. 'The trick though', I said to myself, throwing back the duvet and landing two feet into 2018, 'is definitely to keep moving.'