Walking Into 2020

January 1st, 2020  |   

Walking into the first day of 2020, the New Year’s Eve frivolity has passed on like a shooting star. Human beings must now face the regularity of the predictable sun and moon, rising and setting, like our lives that also rise and set.

Yesterday began with news from a friend that his son had committed suicide. The message was followed by a long-distance phone call from the hospital bedside of a dear friend, his wife informing me that he seemed to be nearing the end of his life.

If I had wanted to drink all of this away, including the news last week that my longtime friend and colleague-priest, Barry Miller, had died, New Year’s Eve would have been the perfect occasion for a knockout drunk.

I chose not to imbibe but to use the final hours of 2019 reading in bed, while wrapped in the clean sheets I’d washed earlier in the day.

T.S. Eliot has served me well over the years. Introduced to his writings while a student in college, I go back to his words addictively for meditation and direction. As 2020 arrives, he does it again with a couple of lines from his poem, Little Gidding. So, I shall pass them on to you.

“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language. 

And next year’s words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning.”

I smile at the numbers attached to this new year, 20-20. In an eye examination, they indicate excellent eyesight. I intend to pray for that, the grace to see clearly at all times and in all places. Which of course would mean being able to see the interdependent connection between my personal life, piety, and politics . Not a bad thought in an election year.

A significant task ahead of me is to remember past blessings, so many of them. I shall start today by remembering the birth of daughter  Elizabeth on January 1, 1963. A revived memory is one of Judy in an Alexandria, Virginia hospital bed, smiling and holding tiny Beth in her arms. 

If you should catch sight of me this year, like walking around town, please know that you are looking at a very fortunate man, with a grateful heart. No other alternative is acceptable. 

 

Entry Filed under: Fig Tree Notes Archives