It’s freezing in this room. I sit under a blanket and the space heater’s light blinks merrily as if to say he’s still pushing out warmth from between his panels of radiator style heating but I’m doubtful. E has gone of to a local pub with a dear friend, a man of fly fishing, wild mushrooms and family. He’s a man that E has learned a lot from, a man with a good strong wife whom I simply can’t get enough of. But I’m at E’s, finishing the last of six laundry loads, reading homework for class which hasn’t even started and freezing beneath the blanket I knit many years ago.
The New Year dawned bright this morning, despite stubborn clouds that failed to bring us snow as we rang in midnight and said goodbye to 2012. Today, Ethan sat at home and did paperwork, receipting, cataloguing business expenses and other end of year tasks. We made soup, did laundry, sorted, read, talked and cried.
What’s the year to be?
2012, someday I’ll write about it, I know my absence from the blog was long and abrupt. It was a hard finish to the year, missing family, crying for lost children, fighting the continuous battle for hope and joy amid a world that sometimes seems bent on pain and sorrow.
I don’t have new years resolutions–I’ve learned better than to do that at this point. But with the year ending on such a note of anxiety in my personal life and indeed in the world at large, I texted one goal to a friend: the same one I’ve pursued through months of prayer, counsel and late nights with E.
On this first day of 2013 I have decided to go forward in confidence and hope: God has given me so much and I am choosing to hold onto the peace of Christ that is sometimes harder to grasp than the fear I’m so well acquainted with.
Ethan’s laptop has played Celtic tunes all afternoon while I’ve read, cleaned and fought the battle for hope in my mind and heart.There’s a fiddle playing alongside a pipe and an instrument I can’t quite pick out. It’s full of cheer and hope. It encourages my soul even as I’ve told E that sometimes I don’t believe He has a plan to give us a future without harm but rather one with hope and prosperity. He hugged me at the door tonight, kissed my forehead and smiled with confidence. “He loves you,” were his words as he squeezed my arm.
The sweet simple words, the soft reminder.
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” [wildly out of context, but ever still the truth]