on this eve of a new year...
on this first anniversary of a son finding the body of his father hanging from a tree.
no, there is no happy.
each hour that passes finds my mind wandering back to the shock, the horror...
and i can't help but wonder if we will ever see the birth of a new year as anything other then the death that marked the old one?
will the word happy ever again be associated with the greeting of the new year?
call me naive, but i have to believe that if the happy has been removed, even for a season, hope can always be found.
because my God is the God of hope.
as the hour hand moves closer to twelve, the word happy settles like ash in my mouth on this cold winter night, may i offer a wish for a new year filled with hope?
even in the midst of change,
may this brand new year, with all it's unwritten pages and empty calendar squares be filled to overflowing with the the sweet fragrance of His Hope.
thank you, each one, for walking this journey with me.