This fresh snow,
come pasting in it did,
as if to wash away what's left
of this year, this decade past;
robustly singing
a wild white song
these last,
brief hours.
It covers the dregs
of my disappointment.
Pretends it's been winter
all along.
As if I won't remember
a Christmas greenish brown.
I welcome it anyways.
Pull up the blinds,
Let in the snow light.
Glad to be home with tea.
Glad to welcome winter.
But.....I know.
This snow wash comes on New Year's Eve.
How appropriate, I say out loud at the window.
Because,
in spite of myself,
I lift my face again
and open arms and heart
to a brand new year,
a brand new decade,
as if I didn't know,
as if the true things weren't.
As if I thought
but I don't
that nothing but happy
will happen these next 365 days,
these next ten years.
2019 is gone under a fresh wash of time.
That decade is done.
2020 here you are
full of the promise.
A decade full of possibilities.
And here I am
full of hope.
What is this reckless welcome?
As if I didn't remember
but I do
the 'all of it' that last year was,
that possibilities are also full of probabilities
which are also full of
possible,
probable
pain.
I notice this inside of me.
This reckless welcome
despite the knowing,
knowing it is not delusional,
knowing that this kind of knowing is just
real.
Knowing, without a flicker of hesitation
that
come what may
He'll be there.
Knowing that
come what may
His grace far outstrips
the enough that I'll need.
And He'll be right there
making all things new
and better than.
This I know
because this I've seen
time and time
year and year
decade and decade
again
and again.
He keeps on doing it.
Without fail.
I can wait to see Him
do it again.
A new year
a new decade
is recklessly welcomed
in a wash of snow-white gloried hope.
God still writes the story.
