I’m conflicted.
Or I’m simply tired.
More likely it’s a combination of the two with a little “something else” sprinkled in – something of which my conscience is not yet aware.
All I know is that another year has ended, a new year is beginning, and I’m neither glad nor sad that 2022 has ended and 2023 is beginning.
I would imagine that I’m no different than anyone else in that these past 365+ days have been a paradox of laughter and tears, clarity and confusion, gratitude and complaining, hope and dismay, and yes, life and death.
We humans are a fascinating bunch.
At times I marvel at the depth of human spirit, the genius of human intellect, and the creativity of the human soul. In such moments my whole being sings, and I can glimpse the “image of God” innate in each unique individual.
Other times, I shake my head at our capacity for the idiotic, the complexities of “intellectual” contortions we engage to delude and deflect our ugliness, and the breadth of narcissistic callousness that causes and allows such pain. In such moments, I contemplate and elevate the wisdom of the hermit or the call of the cloistered.
So, I’m neither glad nor sad that 2022 has ended and 2023 is beginning.
The sun is once again rising over the lake this morning, so I will take a deep breath, close my eyes for a moment, and remember those whom I love that I’ve lost and miss; and those for whom today will be another purposeful attempt to find a reason to smile – if even briefly – amidst the struggles they are facing.
I will take another deep breath and remember those who give a richness and meaning to my life – the “guardrails” that keep me from an abyss of loneliness or isolation – and with whom my vulnerabilities are both known, and safe. They know who they are. I’ve made certain of it.
This just seems right and fitting to do.
Perhaps I’m neither conflicted nor tired.
Maybe its age and “wisdom?”
Whatever it is, it appears that my faith has become quieter and simpler, and in so doing, the mundane seems to be more vested with a certain sacredness.
Maybe I am finally at peace with being human.
In loving memory of my dad, Kenneth “Kenny” Slechta
1936-2022
Thanks for those words, I relate to them and to you posture in faith . Happy 2023 friend.
And a happy 2023 to you as well! Thank you for your kind words.
Thanks, Todd, for those thought-provoking words. I’m sorry to hear about the loss of your Dad in the past year. I know that’s not an easy valley to walk through, regardless of what age our dads reach or what age we are when we experience this loss. Blessings on you and your family!
Thank you my friend. It has been a year and the death of my father was certainly a low point. Thank you for your kind words and happy new year to you and loved ones.