Divine Mystery,
I stand on a cliff
at the edge of a continent
facing out to sea.
Behind me,
the terra firma,
the monuments, the memories,
the dead, the living,
the year 2023,
and all the years of my life
proceeding it.
Before me,
like the fluid,
rolling sea,
lies 2024.
I look out at the vast
expanse of possibilities,
feel the breeze on my face,
and watch
as waves and currents
undulate back and forth.
A siren swaying her hips.
Alluring and dangerous.
Like Peter,
I long to step out onto the water
and walk assuredly through the coming year,
greeting each day
with faith, and hope, and optimism.
But I am not a good swimmer.
I fear drowning under
the weight of:
anxieties about
what might happen,
my nagging mistrust
of human folly,
and my own lack of fitness.
My 2024 calendar
is filling up with
appointments,
holidays,
birthdays,
vacations.
All bobbing on the surface.
Buoys I navigate by every year.
But as I stand here,
preparing to embark on
another year,
realizing that there are
more years behind me
than years ahead,
the horizon looms closer
than I am usually
willing to admit.
The preciousness
of this new year
overcomes me.
I don’t want to hit
the snooze button
and sleepwalk my way
through 2024,
unaware of the uniqueness
that it will hold.
I want to love this year
as if it were an only child.
To watch it evolve and grow.
To hold the good and the bad
and engage, enjoy,
and, yes, endure
whatever it brings.
When the currents get too strong
and I begin to sink,
I will certainly cry out,
“Lord, save me.”
I know that you will reach
out your strong arm
and pull me up
out of deep water.
I will take in
a great gasp of air,
and together,
we will start in again
on the sublime human experiment
of being alive in the world
and alive in the Spirit.
