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Where, unwilling, dies the rose,
Buds the new, another year.
(Dorothy Parker)
EVERYONE IN THIS WEARY WORLD SOMETIMES FEELS THEIR ENTHUSIASM HAS DIED. Life is demanding. It’s exhausting. Even if we face nothing more than the day-to-day challenges of “homesteading” — providing food, clothing, and shelter — we can get to the point where we feel that every drop of vitality has gone down the drain, and it becomes hard to hold onto our hopes.
A new year can bring new life to us. There is something especially motivating about the first few days of a new year, and we ought to seize this opportunity to get a fresh grip on everything we deal with. The sun is rising a little earlier each morning, and spring, although still some distance away, is at least imaginable. New life is calling our names, attracting our attention to elevation and improvement.
A new love can also bring new life to us. By “new love,” I don’t necessarily mean someone or something we’ve never loved before, although new loves of that sort can powerfully rejuvenate us. A “new love” might be persons or things we’ve loved before, but we’ve recently discovered a better or deeper way to love them. Whichever kind of new love we’ve found, we must be careful not to waste it. Love, especially when new, is the most potent force we will ever know. It should be appreciated. We should allow ourselves to feel its fire and welcome the new world it opens up to us. Who knows what good things might happen? Sometimes a new love can be so strongly invigorating that we feel as did Christina Georgina Rossetti: “The birthday of my life is come, my love is come to me.”
Have your dreams been dead for a while now? How long has it been since your hopes were bright? Does your phoenix need to rise from its ashes? If so, don’t discount the possibility that it can happen, and don’t dismiss the likelihood that it can happen right now, on the threshold of a brand-new year. As the snows of more than a few winters accumulate on the head of this writer, I feel, in many vital ways, that I’m only just beginning to live. I’m thankful to be alive — to have been reborn — and I’m going to give it all I’ve got. Will you join me?
And now in age I bud again,
After so many deaths I live and write;
I once more smell the dew and rain . . .
(George Herbert)
Gary Henry – WordPoints.com + AreYouaChristian.com
