The Edge of Whelmed
  • Edge of Whelmed

Auld Lang Syne

12/31/2014

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A quiet New Year's Eve.  I don't go out and freeze to welcome in "First Night" or "First Morning" or whatever it is.  I'd prefer to be sound asleep long before midnight.  I noticed a long time ago that 12:01AM looks an awful lot like 10:01PM and I prefer the latter.  Himself made a lovely meal.  It was an Indian curry.  I served as sous chef by cutting garlic and chili peppers.  About the peppers...three hours later (after washing my hands thoroughly, I thought) I rubbed my eye.  Yikes.  Well, that's the perfect end to a year that I won't mind kicking to the curb.

A long time ago I was at one of the few New Year's Eve parties I have ever deigned to attend.  At 12:30 the host looked at his watch and said, "Well, good night and Happy New Year!"  I thought he was kidding.  Until he said something that I have made a bit of a mantra ever since, and I quote: "Nothing good ever happens after 1 AM."  Every time I hear a scary story on the news I check the time, and sure enough, David was right.

I don't do resolutions.  Oh, I have a long list of good intentions, but I have them every day when I wake up.  There is no magic to the first of January. I know what I need to do and I know the calendar is not going to be the incentive to do them.  But every day I re-commit and sometimes I succeed in spite of myself.  I have, actually, stopped smoking.  OK...that took getting pregnant at the age of 39, but I've been good ever since.  The weight goes up, the weight goes down.  I'm not obsessing any more, although I would like to look good enough at my niece's wedding in September to actually appear in the pictures.  And there's always the chance she'll ask me to sing.  And I should write more because I really do enjoy it.  But that's not a New Year's resolution.  That's a decision I made years ago and I'm making progress in my own good (slow) time.

As a new year starts I look back with longing at people I am forced to leave behind.  But looking back is not a good idea.  That's not the direction in which I'm going.  So I'll look forward.  I wonder what the new year will bring, but I am not worried about it.  Whatever it is, I have the confidence born of knowing that I have a 100% record of surviving whatever has been thrown at me up to now.  If I stop to think about it my wish for the new year is that we will all pray more and laugh more.  The rest of it has a way of working itself out if you give it enough time.

Happy New Year.  And good night.

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A Too Silent Night

12/25/2014

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The presents are all opened.  The lights never did make it outside.  Nor down the staircase (although that at least got a green garland).  It's quiet.  Everyone has retreated to a separate corner of the house and I'm wondering if pizza parlors are open on Christmas night since there is no way I am in the mood to cook a thing.  I sang at two Masses this morning, and I sounded pretty good, if I do say so myself.  My gifts were lovely.  Why, then, this feeling of quiet sorrow?

I suppose it has something to do with missing the people who aren't here.  My sisters couldn't make it for Christmas Eve for the first time in a very very long time, and the only guest we had was my father-in-law who is a sweetheart, but didn't quite fill the house.  The permanently missing faces are more of a problem, and there are more of them every year, but that is part of life if one lives long enough.  Not my favorite part, by the way.  The kids are grown and there just isn't the same level of excitement, even though Santa came and filled stockings and turned their chairs around so he could leave their gifts on them, the way he always has.  Something is different.  Something is missing.

At church today I stared at the altar and the flowers, the gold chalice and the white linens, the candle flames and the satin vestments and I kept hearing the thought in my head, "I have this.  I have this,"  which was oddly comforting.  Because ultimately it is the faith to which I cling, and it's the only thing that makes sense some days.  I get seriously annoyed with the Catholic Church sometimes (being female and all that), but you couldn't drive me away with a whip and a chair.  I have this; this faith in the Savior who put on flesh and became like us for a while.  This increasing sense of the impermanence of life and the comfort of eternity.  This firm belief that what is coming is going to be so far above whatever we've known so far.  And all that mattered more than how many lights were put on the house or not, or how many presents were under the tree.  And so I shall take a few quiet moments to rest in the Presence, firm in the knowledge that even if I don't know what's wrong, He does. And He'll know how to fix it.

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    Author

    The author, a voice over actor who became a mother for the first time at age 40 and has been winging it ever since, attempts to share her views on the world, mostly to help her figure it out for herself.  What the heck?  It's cheaper than therapy.

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