C’mon man. You say these things always start with a sentence – just one simple sentence. So write it down already, and get this damned post out, and off your chest.


Here goes…

November is wrapping itself around me like some sort of chilled cocoon, and while I can’t properly express it, I feel as if I must let you know of my experience. Each and every time I walk out to be met with the solidity of the season, I feel as if the air, pressing crisply up against me, almost seems to be saying, “It’s time to wake up.” The cold, reaching deep down within my lungs, seems to be saying, “It’s finally over. All of it, over.”

The world around me is once again dying for another year. While there is little difference to my outward surroundings from years past, there is a noticeable difference from within – a grand upheaval of sorts. It is over. I can feel it, know it. 2012 is slowly passing, and I know that all the pain, anger, loss and bitterness that it bore into my life, must go now as well.

But that’s not right. Well, it’s not what I wanted to say. No, this feeling I have is much more primal. This feeling, when the cold air first kisses my cheek, is almost a call from – well – from the dawn of creation or something… Listen, I’m trying hard to not use “religious” overtones, as I don’t want you to think that this experience is unique or exclusive to only one faith. But as I am who I am, I have to use the example I believe to be the correct one. So I suppose what I’m really trying to say, is that this year the frigid air seems to be Jesus’ way of whispering to my soul, “You made it through the storm. I’ve got you now, and tomorrow will be better. ‘I have made all things new.’ I wasn’t lying when I said that, you know. And now it’s your turn pally.”

Now it’s my turn.

Sounds stupid right? I know, but that is the feeling I keep getting this Fall. That it’s my turn. That He’s going to somehow reach deep inside of me, pummel my wayward heart, scrub me down from the stains of my ignorance and small thinking, cleanse me of all the bullshit baggage that I’ve been lugging around for the past year or so, and take me to a better place. I feel so bad speaking like this, knowing that one of my dearest blogging buddies is going through exactly the opposite experience during this time of year. But I feel as if I’ve been somehow commissioned to get these words out, to express to you all this whatever-it is that I’m undergoing just now. I feel as if it is not unique to me, and others could jump in as well  – into this indulgence of being stripped down, washed away and made anew.

The boy who lives with us now has been through more in his short four years than I have most likely had to endure in my forty three, and when he has a “bad” day, I use the same schpeel on him that I did my three so long ago. After all the apologies have been made, and all the tears dried, while kissing him goodnight, I’ll ask, “Hey, is tomorrow a new day?” The answer isn’t always quick in coming, but it is always “Yes.”  And as with my three, while resting my hand on his heart (I don’t know why, I just always have) my final thought to him then before the lights go out and I leave the room is always, “Well then, let’s make it a good one, OK?”

Listen, I know that this post is coming out all wrong, and not nearly as succinct or descriptive as I would like it to be in expressing how I feel right now – like an exposed nerve ready to be bandaged, or like a drought, just minutes before the deluge. But I suppose what I’m failing so miserably at describing to you is that this year, this time, this now, Jesus (or the deity/non-deity of your choice) is telling me – and apparently telling me to tell you – that tomorrow will be coming soon, and Tomorrow will be a new day.

Tomorrow will be a new day.

I, for one, can’t wait.


God bless you my friends until then.