finally an end to this year, which has been a mix of the good and bad. made some new friends, lost some old. wrote some books, edited some books, bought some, gave tons away. moved some, stayed some. got lost many times, found many more. joy came to me, and left me, and came again. in the end, i think it all turned out well. or will, at some point in the future. i can't see.
i know the resolution for the coming year, i guess speaking it out loud will commit me to it, so i'll give myself a few more days to think on it. see if i didn't hear incorrectly (it has happened on occasion).
i have yet to count my coppers. tally the year, line them up and see how far they stretch. the tiny ribbon of road to carry me toward joy.
i don't know. that much has not changed. but i hope. i believe. i trust.
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A bushel of apples are picked through looking for not the shiney, sparling morseled bite that lies on top of the heap, but the one that is at the bottom holding worms and bitterness so it doesnt destroy the taste of all, so which really becomes the apple of our eye? the obvious shine, or the labored find of bitterness.I pray your ends are 'filled' from the top of the basket.and use the bitter for sauce to spread on daily bread.
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