2005 has rolled around to my neighborhood...as evidenced by the number of people screaming next door. This has been an unusual New Year celebration for me. I only felt like staying in my own house, alone (husband Dave has a gig). My intense desire to sit here and chill out has caused me to consider that perhaps 2004 was my Year of Exhaustion. My year ended fittingly and quietly with a hot shower, followed by a satisfied and sanguine slouch on the couch at 11:58 to watch the perennial televised drunken celebration. I think this cleansing rest is entirely fitting.
I hope that 2005 becomes the year of learning to be myself again. On a search for my forgotten self, lost on the pilgrimage path of performance and duty, I am already beset by noisome trouble from next door; the decibels eminating henceforth I had hoped to leave behind in my college days. Indeed, I am convinced even now that it my be louder than anything my tender collegiate ears my have encountered. So much for suburbia.
So, my ideas for a quiet time of prayer are spoiled. But then, I am reminded that we are not so easily to fit into the culture of our times. So perhaps I shall embrace the thumpy bass that vibrates the delicate skull plate which happily resides between my ears as a reminder that ultimately, this is not my home, but that I embrace a higher hope for joy, fulfillment, love, faith, hope, and yes...even a little rest.