A New Years Prayer

by Frederick Buechner

Thou son of the Most High, Prince of Peace, be born again into our world. Wherever there is war in this world, wherever there is pain, wherever there is loneliness, wherever there is no hope, come, thou long-expected one, with healing in thy wings.
    Holy Child, whom the shepherds and the kings and the dumb beasts adored, be born again. Wherever there is boredom, wherever there is fear of failure, wherever there is temptation too strong to resist, wherever there is bitterness of heart, come, thou blessed one, with healing in thy wings.
    Saviour, be born in each of us who raises his face to thy face, not knowing fully who he is or who thou art, knowing only that thy love is beyond his knowing and that no other has the power to make him whole. Come, Lord Jesus, to each who longs for thee even though he has forgotten thy name. Come quickly.

                                                                                                                   Amen.

When your broken leg mends
I’m gonna take you dancing
and if it breaks again
that won’t end my romancing
I would love you even if you got skinny
even if I had to buy you new clothes
even if you got rid of that
awful Jew-nose.

This is the library I might go work in next year. Fun, fun!

When the library didn’t call me back about the job I said “I’ll take that as a sign that I should do something else with my life during the next 9 months.”  Then they called me two days later asking if I wanted to work there still. Now I don’t know what to do. Should I be sensible or bold and spontaneous? Hmm. I’m not sure spontaneity is a virtue. Being able to get dressed quickly, or to pack a bag in 10 minutes, these things are virtues. But spontaneity?

I’ve learned something about myself this week, though. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of being deemed “unsuccessful” by American standards. I want to stay liquid as long as possible. I want to be able to go without having to worry about all I’m leaving behind. I can do that now.

I like my smile. It’s ridiculous looking, but I like it. “What a gap-toothed weirdo”. That’s what I say in the mirror sometimes.

I am behind on my Christmas shopping. I don’t feel guilty. That would be the American way to feel, but who cares.

“For we cannot give love if we cannot accept it” I know I start to feel guilty if someone buys me lunch. I never feel deserving of kindness. What, then, am I going to do with Grace? That’s a pretty big act of kindness that I definitely don’t deserve. “Just as I am”. Exactly. Right now. Not tomorrow, after you’ve slept off today’s sins (Do you think like that sometimes? I do. I  sometimes think everyday starts a blank slate. Is that so? Where is it written? I don’t think it is.) The point is that we are loved, even in drunken stupors, even when we rip our friends to shreds with our tongues, even in our left-handedness.

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Dont turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

If I had stopped to listen once or twice
If I had closed my mouth and opened my eyes
If I had cooled my head and warmed my heart
Id not be on this road tonight

Carry on

Never mind feeling sorry for yourself
It doesnt save you from your troubled mind

Walk down that lonesome road all by yourself
Dont turn your head back over your shoulder
And only stop to rest yourself when the silver moon
Is shining high above the trees

I’m the moonlight prince
you’re the starlight queen
I’ll meet you in the gloaming
where the nighttime finds its sheen

when amber becomes silver
becomes black in starry skies
I will sing a magnum opus
to the gleaming in your eyes

Psalm 13
For the director of music. A psalm of David.
1 How long, O LORD ? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?

2 How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me?

3 Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;

4 my enemy will say, “I have overcome him,”
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

5 But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.

6 I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.

I always liked the way this Psalm seemed so sad and defeated and then still managed to end with words of faith and hope. I never noticed till now, though, that God never actually steps in. The speaker in this Psalm chooses to trust, and to rejoice, and to sing, all on his own. This seems to correspond with a quote I read by Souza last night which talked about how Happiness is a choice. It’s an attitude. It’s a decision to appreciate what you’ve got, and to take joy in the little things in life; the little coincidences or the easy to miss beauty in nature or in a smile or in a laugh or in a voice.

It’s still hard not to beat one’s self up over mistakes and regret, though. It’s still hard not to wonder. It’s still hard not to long for certain things not within our reach.

There is no way to rectify the past and present. They are forever separated by an invisible rift, from top to bottom. One can waste away pining for the past, but the only way to move forward is to trust. Trust that God doesn’t want to leave you hanging, that he doesn’t want to leave you where you are. ( how can you make this right God? How can you satisfy my soul’s longings? I can see no possible way. I am a creative man, but you have me stumped.) Then you need even more trust.

Trust is a scary thing. Trust requires a lion’s heart. Le coeur d’un lion.

I am fatigued. It’s my birthday.

This body is a temple. I shall overturn the tables.
I shall banish all the loathsome. I shall polish all the floors.

Your voice, quite like a whisper in my ear
(I remember whispers!)
“How long, how long, how long?”

Funny. I was just about to ask you the same thing.
I will sing……………for whom? Pour elle? Pour quoi? Pour qui?

I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me.


I dare not linger
for your voice besets a stirring

God, how I wished I could show her my favorite rock for sitting

I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of leaving things undone.
This is why I cannot sleep at night.
Today was nice, though. Mom took me out to lunch, and to buy some clothes for my birthday.
Then I went to be with my little brothers. A family friend died early this morning, so I looked after them for a while so my dad and stepmom and Austin could go visit. I can’t imagine losing someone you’re not expecting to lose. What would that first night be like? I have trouble sleeping if someone hurts my feelings, what would I do if a parent died? I think this must be where God’s supernatural strength kicks in. I think having good friends helps as well. I put down my friends a lot, saying I don’t really have a best friend, but I really do have some great friends who I know would come to my aid if I needed them.
It feels so much better to share. I have these pockets of warmth and charm sometimes when I’m over at my dad’s house. Sometimes when we’re all there we’ll all just start dancing, and I don’t care anymore about being the quiet one. I’m the crazy one with the african dances. I’m the one who cries at kids movies. I’m the one with the blanket in the middle of summer. I’m the one who wrote Sweet Potato Henderson. Pretty much my finest moment. I’m the one with all the scars, and I am the peacemaker. These do not raise me above the rest, these are simply my contributions. These are my ramblings, and these are my inane words, but my words are few, so I value them anyway.

Taylor and Ryan?! I know, come on. It doesn’t seem possible, but that’s what’s going down on the O.C., and I have to admit, it’s just strange enough to work. She was just so sweet the way she tried to help cure him of his insomnia by pretending to know about sleep therapy. And the way Ryan helped save her from the Frenchman by stepping in and pretending to be her lover. That was just really a very Ryan thing to do. Always coming to the rescue. I tried to download Episode 5 of Season 4, and when I went to watch it, it turned out to be anime porn. I hate it when that happens.

When I was little, my dad used to throw these big “hoedown” parties every year. He has a big 3 car garage, and so we would clear everything out of it, and hire a fiddle player who would also call the dances. I never actually did much dancing. I was more interested in chopping wood and bobbing for apples (these were the other activities guests could partake in). I really would like to go to a hoedown again, but I don’t know of any. It would probably be me and a bunch of old people anyway, but I guess that’s alright.