1/1/11

A new year with auspicious numeration. I thought last year was auspicious enough - acceptance to Berkeley at Yale Divinity School, leaving my job at Episcopal Community Services after 10 years, moving away from home like some adolescent and beginning graduate school in New Haven. In today's New York Times, Oliver Sacks wrote an opinion piece on making resolutions to challenge your mind because, even in older years, the brain can be expanded and even rewired by new learning. Well, Dr. Sacks, I think I have that one covered.

I look forward to returning for a second semester of studies at YDS but am grateful for one more week to relax and putz around the house, spending time with the dogs and the cat if not Tim, who is leaving for business in NC tomorrow. I have so appreciated these two weeks of sleeping in, napping, reading non-required books, visiting and catching up with friends and neighbors - all those things that keep a person sane and connected! I preached at St. James in Lancaster last weekend and will do so at St. Peter's in the Great Valley next Sunday, a fulfilling exercise of ministry that seems to affirm my vocational path even more so.

With all the wonderful experiences of this past year and anticipation of the year to come, I must confess that there is also great sadness in the turning of the years as I grieve that, with each new year, I am one year farther away from the time in which my son walked the earth. 2011 will bring the second anniversary of Seth's death, so this month of January will bring with it the painful memories of his final weeks both here with us and up in New York. I am that much distanced from being able to touch him or hear his beautiful voice, to be the butt of his jokes, or to be the one whose tears were "like kryptonite" to him. The life of a mother who has lost a child is filled with the knowledge that every joy will be tinged with sadness and every memory has the potential to completely undo her.

The good news is that this undoing is not permanent. Life does go on, and a good and beautiful life it is. I am so abundantly blessed with a fantastic husband, a wonderful daughter, affectionate dogs, more friends than I can count, a beautful home, the amazing opportunity to go to seminary and work toward a vocation as an ordained person in the Episcopal Church, and, yes, so much more. I am truly grateful for all of this. If only Seth were here to share it with me, life would be perfect. In his absence, though, I revel in the company of his friends and in their contact with me on Facebook or by e-mail. They continue to grow older while he will always be 24, but it helps to keep him close to me. So to Matt, Rachel, Erin, Mike, Teresa, Kimmie, Ricki, Sarah, Amanda, Janette, Jennafer, Sarah, Mackenzie, Ash, Dan, Josh and all the rest, thank you for being there for Seth and for me. I love you all.