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New Years Eve 2014 (Don’t Dream it’s Over)

2014 Dusking

It’s New Years Eve 2014, a day devoted to tomorrow.

It feels like I’ve been writing this post for days now, if not weeks and months. Since this is my final posting, I suppose it’s been in the works all year long. I remember all too well the end of 2013, facing major changes and staring into the face of the unknown.

Welcome to the future. No hover cars or robot servants, and nothing else seems to be any different either.

After losing at least a week out of life to that horrible cold/flu bug sweeping the nation, the cold and cloudy grey weather and my aching body have finally given way to light and a semblance of life. The sky was a blue we haven’t seen in ages, with thin clouds rolling in like ocean waves. It’s colder, yes, but the sun is a welcome visitor even for one last day.

I’ll join the rest of humanity and wonder where the year went. Highs and lows, many trials and a few triumphs…sadly this year the scale tipped far too often in the wrong direction.

While everyone is recounting the past and pointing hopefully to the future, I’ll allow myself no such luxury. For me there is only now.

If you are fortunate enough to have had a great year, then I’ll say congrats. As for the rest of us, all we can do is hope for better…but if I’ve learned anything from 2014, hope is a dangerous word.

For the first time in years and years, I don’t have a damn clue what is in store for the coming year. As a believer, this is a very strange place to be indeed. I’ve searched Scripture for plans and promises, I’ve hurled prayers toward the heavens, and cried many tears of the hopefully hopeless. I’ve given in and given up. I’ve trusted time and time again, only to see hopes and dreams shatter into shards that have cut my spirit to the bone.

I just don’t know what else to do but wait in the now.
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It’s been said that sometimes we can fail and fall so far that even the plans of God are nullified, or at least changed beyond recognition. I have fought this notion with every fiber of my being, but still the year comes to a close. Nothing has changed…

Maybe God gives the visions to those young and strong enough to make them happen, leaving the dreaming of past glory to the old. Maybe that’s all the old can do…dream the dreams that give vision to the young.

And off there in the distance
The morning fire still glows
The promise of a dream that may still grow
And beyond this days horizon
Past the final pathway turn
The day has found its ending
Where Hope fights the darkness as it burns

Father, thank You for the gift of this moment. Be with us in every ‘now’ of the coming days…

Now I will wait for the new year and a new day. I have seen this days dawning, and now it’s dusking.

Today becomes tomorrow…
And still I wait, and dream that it’s not over.

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The Fall

Today is the last day of summer.

Today I turned fifty-three. I won’t go so far as to say I celebrated this day, but certainly I was wished a happy birthday by family and friends. There were the usual jokes and ribbing about being an old man…fifty-three is not old these days, but it ain’t young.

Typically birthdays don’t affect me one way or the other, the notable exception being turning twenty-five. It was a year of uncertainty and madness and regret, and a time where life should’ve started making sense. Yet the senselessness of that time still haunts today.

It was pleasant enough today…but already the signs are there for those adept at their reading. Summer is gone, and fall is upon us. A crispness is in the air, and while the days are still warm, the nights grow cool.

Tomorrow is the autumnal equinox, which is a fancy way of saying fall is here. Equinox is a Latin term for ‘equal night,’ meaning day and night are the same length. In the coming days, nights will grow long and days will shorten.

Today is the last day of summer. Tomorrow the fall begins.

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It’s maddening, actually. While others of a certain age work toward their winding down, I feel as if I’m just now starting. The questions and doubts that haunt every artist are magnified in the fading light. Has my time passed? Do I have enough fuel for the path I seek?

Am I simply too old to do this?

I joke that age is a number, and today I feel one hundred. Yet in my gut I still feel the flame that burns bright against the coming dark. With promises given and gifting empowered, I stubbornly hold to the vision of something greater than myself. I wonder and wail and ask the Father for the meaning behind it all. The only answers seem to be the whispering wind and silver of clouds heavy laden with doubt. Even my own choices conspire against the knowing of this vision of music that reveals and redeems and restores.

Summer is over. I realize I’m in the beginnings of my autumn…fall is here, and winter will follow all too soon…

 

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“Labor”

Labor

It is a strange sensation
To feel a teardrop
Running all the way
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How slowly it rolls down
In thrall to gravity and sadness
A sign for all to see
The ones who labor with loneliness

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“Falling Away”

The leaves are falling
First signs of winter
The pressure’s building
I start to splinter
My strength is falling away

No pearls in the making
Only spirit breaking
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So tired of hurting
Weary of calling
The leaves are falling
The leaves are falling
Until they all fall away…

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The Locked Gate

I started this post this morning while actually walking, dictating a broken version of the following into my phone. I’ve tried to preserve the tone and feel of my thoughts. The image attached to this post still flays my soul…

An old rusty lock on a gate to nowhere

I’ve walked this path at Thompsons Station Park so many times I’ve lost count, but I’ve never noticed this gate until today.

There is no discernible path behind it…nothing but a few acres of trees that form a buffer zone of sorts around most of the park. In fact young but grown trees immediately block the entrance. The rusted padlock tells the rest of the story…

An old locked gate bars entrance to a path going seemingly nowhere. What secrets if any lie beyond? Is the lock a reminder or a recommendation?

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Curiosity kills more than just cats. If you’re not careful, it can kill dreams as well. I bare the scars of such death in my own body.

Suddenly I want to run from this spot, and whatever does or doesn’t lie beyond. Maybe I should post a sign, “Do not enter: dead inside.”

I pray that the God of Resurrection would bring new life to what lies beyond all our gates. Mine included.

Courage would have me add ‘especially mine…’