And so Christmas is back in the box, the baby sleeps and perhaps some of the peace and good will remains. This is both the saddest time of year and the most hopeful. Perhaps when the boxes open next year, real pace will have replaced the possibility of peace.
The resolutions have been made, and for the most part broken. This will not be the year I lose 20 pounds, nor will it be the year I bench press 180. Those are dreams of the past, but this year I might walk 1000 miles, I might do more exercise with less weight. Perhaps Yoga becomes more than an annoying duty.
Perhaps this will be the year I achieve a miniscule part of the spiritual growth I need. Perhaps this will be the year I grow slightly more patient, the year I become less sure I know the answer. Perhaps this will be the year I finally put cancer to rest.
Perhaps this is the year I learn to be present and to accept what is, to live totally in this moment and to release nothing but joy and healing and peace.
And just maybe this will be the year one foot moves closer to the Kingdom of Heaven, while the other remains rooted in the Kingdom of Man.