Annus Mirabilis

December 28, 2005

Mood: Changeable

Song: “Turning” (a Starbucks poison of choice for the individual who can identify the
origin of this song :))

“Look in thy heart and write” –Sir Philip Sidney


This post contains no lighthearted ramblings, and it is the author’s firm contention that your time would be better served by enjoying any one of a thousand holiday pleasures instead of rambling with me through this dark night.

In the deep midwinter of 2005, the days fly apace, and their swift passing is in time with the shifting I feel in my own heart. Nothing stays the same; the world itself is in flux. Thanks be to our Lord that he has given us the perfect mix of change and stability. After all, it is always winter again, yet always THIS winter. To have it always winter and never Christmas is the sign of a society in decay (and parallels to our own beloved nation are sadly merited).

I must confess, however, that in memory’s vault this year has contained transition without much rest. In my own life, 2005 has included:

*the passing of two essential men in my life: my beloved stepfather and my grandfather
*the passing of my old life as I entered into marriage: the two shall become one flesh
*the passing of my family home to another owner
*the passing from school to work marked by my completion of student teaching in May
*the passing into silence of several friendships, some expected, some surprises
*the passing of the hospitality torch from my mother to me as I hosted my first married Christmas

Such changes are not all negative; some are to be eagerly embraced, and I do not regret the steps I have taken into adulthood this past year. I stand amazed at the road I traverse, and with the Florentine I am unsure of the way. Is it any wonder that I have experienced a sense of isolation? There are days I feel like I am starring in the Lifetime movie of the week, watching events unfold but not directly acting upon them. Each and every relationship I cherished has altered, and I consider myself alone and apart. I know there are those who care for me, whose lives are inextricably linked to mine, yet they seem distant. By the way, if you’re out there reading this, please let me know ;). Sometimes the words matter more than you realize.

Do not think my life alone has been impacted.

One amazing friend has finally discovered marital peace. Her honesty is an inspiration to me; dear one, know that your experience has encouraged me to press forward through the deepest darkness. I cannot appropriately express my appreciation for your willingness to let me see you as you are. What they don’t tell you is that the first year of marriage is both more challenging and more rewarding than anyone who remains single can envision. I long for the day when we will have physical proximity to match the closeness of our souls.

Another friend has been dealt heartache on the very eve of bliss. She compares herself to a phoenix, and this is apt. Now it seems she has learned to trust again; I am unsure about my own ability to rebuild so quickly. Though we have lost touch, and I believe my friendship was never as vital to her as hers to me, I think of her often. Her name, appropriately enough, encompasses the strife (even against heaven) that she has endured and the princess she is and will continue to become.

For those who don’t know, this year has also forced Charles and me to consider the possibility (always looming in the background) that we may not be able to have children. Why should this matter? I do not trust easily, as previous posts indicate, and my Heavenly Father is calling me into deeper waters, since waiting may not be an option, yet it is our only choice at this point. This is pertinent, since I have recently discovered that a bacchant friend of mine is expecting her first child. While I rejoice for and with her, I am also struck by how much she has matured in the past few years. Again, though I don’t speak to her often, she is in my heart. So many of my acquaintances have morphed into rabbits, and I am both anxious and terrified to discover parenthood.

One of the tragedies of post-modernity is that we have utterly eradicated all signposts towards maturity. Do we become adults at 13, as Jews do when they are called to the Torah as a bar or bat mitzvah? Is adulthood gained when we graduate from high school or perhaps college? What about marriage? Giving birth? For those who remain single or decline to become parents, when are they grown-up? Age 25? 30? We live in the age of “Peter Pan”, with many Americans simply deciding not to reach adulthood. If nothing else, 2005 has convinced me that I have indeed crossed that gap.



One comment

  1. You’re in my heart and prayers as well 🙂

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