Farewell 2010

A long December
And there's reason to believe
Maybe this year will be better than the last.
I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself
To hold on
To these moments as they pass
(Counting Crows)

My theme for 2010.

My dad's loss was the most painful for me, but he was not the only one. Holiway's sister Margaret and her husband Bud, Scott's aunt Robin and uncle Donald, Richard Boone's wife Priscilla, Scott's friend Brian. We're both a little tired of saying goodbye at funerals.

So much to be thankful for, however. Our family is well, we are getting better all the time, we have all that we need and a little extra besides, and I am a happy, happy person. I hope that in the coming year I will discover more of what my Heavenly Father has in his plans for me and that those I love will uncover more joy in their lives. It's our time and I want to make the most of it!

Why can't we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn't work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. (Charles Schultz)

The Sheep Herd by Sister Mariella

I am a shepherd-I have hated
The smell of damp sheep in the rain,
The pain
Of clouted shoes on weary feet,
The silly barking of watchdogs in the night,
The blinding light
Of summer suns on hillsides without shade.
Nor anything I did not wish was not
From hoar-frost on the meadow grass
To dizzy stars that blinked on stupidly and bright.

Last night
I went with other men who tended sheep
Over to Bethlehem to see-
We did not know just what we'd come to see
Who'd followed up a cloud of singing wings.
Until we came to where a young girl held
A little baby on her lap and smiled.

She made me think of flowers,
White flowers on long stems and blue night skies.
Nothing happened -
But today
I have been shaken with the joy
Of seeing hoar-frost wings
Atilt upon tall grasses; the sun
Upon the sheep, making their gray backs white
And silvery
Has hurt me with its beauty, and I heard
The sound of barking watchdogs break
The tolling bells against the quiet hills.