The New Year . . .
There have been many.
And when the end is reached, we tend to stop and look back.
We look back prior to taking that last step to stand on the cusp of new.
We look back and take stock . . . we review. We list things as good and things as bad and then we tally up. We see the final total. We see and we determine if the year was a good one or a bad one.
We look ahead. We wipe the slate clean. Somehow believing that a single stroke can undo the mess . . . the hurt.
We set new goals.
We envision different dreams.
We set new and wipe clean because we can't possibly let the unmet plans and swallowed dreams to follow us into the new.
Why do we feel there is a beginning and an end?
Can't we just take everything, all of it, from days gone by and we see if for what it is?
Can't we just cradle it all, the beauty, the tears, the joy, the ache and carry it with us? Let it be apart of us, like it was always meant to be? Not to define us, but to embrace it, to accept it.
Let all those little pieces, that we so readily want to dismiss, and let them become parts of a whole?
Because in all of those pieces, in all of those moments, they build and they create.
Because in all of those moments that were, was God.
And in all of the moments that will be, will be God.