Auld Lang Syne: It's January 2016, can you remember December?

Can you remember December?

In some ways the “memory” is more a part of the event than the actual happening, because it is the only thing we have left. Such is the way we look back on the frenetic month of December from the perspective of January. How did we fit it all in one month? So much of it seemed slow and gauzy at the time, and now it seems as if it flew out of our hands like the wind.

Now that everyone is back at work and re-enrolled in schools, the pace is back to the normal whirring, buzz of the high RPM lifestyle so common in modern society. If there was a chance to rest, reflect, maybe even refresh old relationships over the holidays, now the engine is back to cruising speed and the special holiday times are pushed back into the far reaches of our memory.

As low-key as I tried to craft my December, there was still a lot to remember and many good times with friends, family, past acquaintances, and celebratory gatherings. From old co-workers, high school friends, out-of-state-family, visitors, even parents, siblings, sons & daughters—the past month was a special time of building relationships, sharing joy, good food, gifts, cheer, and memories… But it’s gone.

Is December atypical? Set apart and foreign enough to be ephemeral, outside reality? For some, the holidays represent surviving immense pain, for others it is awash in oblivion, yet it is certainly different every year, and more unrealistic to me as I get older. 

Auld Lang Syne is "for (the sake of) old times" and each December seems to be partly that, and partly a pure money play for the sake of capitalism. As I wrote in my Christmas poem last month, what puts the wind in our sails is something entirely different.

We have a new slate in front of us on which we write the story of the new year. All accounts are back to zero-sum, the value has yet to be added, and frankly we don’t know which way to turn. There’s a feeling of renewal and anxiety balanced with confidence in what we can do, tempered with a healthy respect for present uncertainty; but describing that is like catching lightning. 

It’s the first month of the year, the short hesitation before it soars again, is like the silence before a sonic boom. Even seeing the object move across the sky silently, you wait for the speeding bullet to break the sound barrier.

How long before the average person jettisons their new year’s resolutions? Just a few weeks? Are they gone already? What do I want to accomplish this year? Just setting the goals is the first step in January; but the hard work and persistence required to make real change is the cold water into which we must jump. Good luck.

Fear

Our Constant Companion

Jesus repeatedly told his disciples and other people not to be afraid, yet humans deal with fear so often everyday that fear is almost our closest companion. As natural as breathing, apprehension can be a protective mechanism or a friendly motivator; but like food, too much makes us bulky and slow.

Like darkness invading nighttime, fear creeps into the day, ultimately blinding us from the reality of time. At the heart of each dawn is the possibility of a new day; however fear saps our joy and paralyzes our creativity. Can we be comfortable with distress like we are in our own skin, or will fear eat away at the soul, gradually corroding the mind from the inside out?

Constant Questions

We are constantly asking ourselves:

How do I look?

Do they like me?

Is she telling me the truth?

Am I late?

Did I forget about something?

Did I study enough?

Did I save enough?

How will I know what to do?

What’s going to happen to us?

Fear is even more basic than that; fear is connected to mortality, and the core question of our existence. We are afraid of other men, what will they think of us? We are afraid to die. We wonder after a certain age how much longer we have?

At the same time, fear gives us wisdom, discernment, perseverance, even intuition; in many ways it is our protective older brother but fear also takes charge and causes even the most rational to second guess.

Coping with Fear

Coping with fear is one of life’s greatest challenges. We sojourn to so many places in search for the miracle antidote. Fear is a toxic poison with deadly side-effects; it squeezes stress out of uncertainty instead of faith. Interpreting what John O’Donohue said, “stress is a perverted relationship to time,” I would add that stress is a perverted relationship to fear. Time and fear have overcome our daily routines, so that rather than being a subject of your own time, we become fear’s target and victim, lacking the control to stand up to these twin villains.

“For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God… for God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power, love, and self-control.”
2 Timothy 1:6-7

Our Response by God's Grace

Instead of dismay, may I tremble at the Lord’s power to control the universe and his good intentions with my life and family? Rather than being overcome with anxiety, may I run to the biblical comfort of the Word made flesh, and rest in the admonitions of Jesus Christ? Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but it is only the starting point. As we fall in love with the supremacy of God and the sovereignty of God, our peace grows to the point of resting in God and fearing no more the changes in our lives.

Without faith there is no meaning to life and no reason to conduct ourselves with courage in the face of fear. If death is merely a threshold onto another platform, and our hope is in a better place as we are promised in Christ, then we can dig deep into our well of faith and believe enough to push out the fear. This is done through the power of the spirit, with love and self-control.

©Mark H. Pillsbury

Part VI (fiction ripped from the headlines) The storm-chasers saga...

Thwap

At last, turning onto this back road only made matters worse. The anxiety felt when you miss an important exit, or stall behind a wall of traffic, knowing you will not make the meeting just touches the desperation beginning to set in, even for optimistic Clay.

Thick, smoky air swirled like a heavy dark curtain rolling down over the last night of a performance; the fuel-rich heat seared the moisture out of their eyes as they all reconvened for the last time. Coughing, crying, panicked Jessica held onto Rick’s sleeve as they discussed options. He loved her just then, she rarely showed weakness during their adventures. Rick thought it showed a true care had burrowed into his aching heart, despondent as it was that he could not give her comfort.

“We are so lost, Clay! What good is this doing?!” Rick pleaded. “I got no connections over any of my devices, no GPS, no clue where this wildfire will turn!” He continued, “I got nothing, man, how boutchu?”

Clay shrugged. “What the hell do you do when you get trapped by a twister?”

“We don’t!” Rick barked. “We usually run a lot faster the opposite direction! There’s a way to know which way to run--it’s called radar?!” He was frustrated by the helplessness. Just then they heard a tall pine crack and crash to the ground. It was an ominous punctuating scream from the forest’s death throes. The hot shear blew at them like an oven opened, but as if they were sticking their heads inside.

Feeling that reversing their path would only complicate their position, for just a moment they stood together as they would at the tee box of a round of golf looking down the verdant first fairway full of hope. Instead, they contemplated their dangerous location in the middle of this hot cauldron of fire. No one admitted it, but this was the point where these friends reached the end of themselves.

Clay did nothing more than drop his head. He silently prayed that his Lord would deliver him from this fiery trap, and that he would be given the ability to persevere and not give up hope; he even gave thanks that his hope was not in this world but it resided in heaven. Clay kept faith that this was not the end, although he was out of ideas for rescue.

photo credit: Chris Carlson, NCDFR

Thwap, thwap, thwap. They lifted their heads to the heavens and saw a beacon of hope. Thwap, thwap, thwap beat rhythmically over the horizon as the Sikorsky helicopter flew closer to the worst portion of the fire wall. The pilot watched his instrument panel, but the storm-chasers looked up with amazement.

“Lord have mercy,” Clay exclaimed with a chuckle. With a mind cleared by hope, Rick leaped to the back of the Tahoe, where he dug into the wheel-well. He remembered that he picked up once a complimentary flare-pack at an extreme weather convention. Finding it immediately dusty and dirty from neglect along with the spare tire, he ripped the pair open eagerly while trying to read the symbol directives for operation. “Maybe someone will know we are down here!” Jessica gasped.

photo credit: Red Cross

At a nearby fenceline, the raging inferno came out from behind the trees like a robber, finally playing his hand. It was as if all societal boundaries had been breached and the devil was welcoming them to his party. They felt so exposed, insecure, helpless, even weak like children, facing this wall of flames; Jessica fell in behind Rick and wrapped her arms tight around his torso, peaking out around his wide shoulders.

Unfortunately, road flares only sparkle on the ground, not able to shoot directly at the helicopter. After its first pass the huge ship flew out of sight and no longer cut the air with such whipping force. Clay thought of the old saying in Ecclesiastes, “there is a time to live, and there is a time to die.” They did not know which one it would be.

photo credit: WSPA

(...to be continued in Part VII)

©Mark H. Pillsbury (17 July 2011)

[this is a work of fiction, any similarities to other works of fiction, TV, or film, are purely coincidental]