Before the candles are lit, drinks are poured, the voices get loud, and the party starts, I wanted pop over here to share a excerpt from a story I read this week, and a thought for the New Year. The excerpt is from Truman Capote's A Christmas Memory, a sweet short story with a great message (you can read the entire story at the link).
"My, how foolish I am!" my friend cries, suddenly alert, like a woman remembering too late she has biscuits in the oven. "You know what I've alway thought?" she asks in a tone of discovery, and not smiling at me but a point beyond. "I've always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when He came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don't know it's getting dark. And it's been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooky feeling. But I'll wager it never happens. I'll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are" -- her hand circles in a gesture that gathers clouds and kites and grass and Queenie pawing earth over her bone -- "just what they've always seen, was seeing Him. As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes."
My New Year's resolution is to look at today, every day, filled with many moments, and realize I have seen the Lord...in the flicker of a flame, a bird in a cloudless sky, a flower pushing up through the earth, in all that we behold.
Wishing you the happiest of New Years, dear friends.