2010 is (about) looking up.

Outside the window, frost sparkles atop frozen grass blades of green. The sun is shining, deliberately teasing those who view it, for there is no warmth; just sun. What once were puddles in the driveway, have become expansive ice rinks for teams of hockey playing ants. I sip from my tea, and realize that not even ants were that dumb. Looking down inside the cup of tea, I almost expect to find traces of mind altering drug residue. Ants? Playing hockey in my driveway? Confident I am merely crazy, and not drugged, I shrug my shoulders, while sipping another drink. Wool lined slippers, with leather bottoms, keep my feet warm, and a cream, cable knit sweater keeps the rest of me cozy. It is Saturday morning, the day after Christmas and six days until the New Year. Six days, before the turning of a yet another page, of yet another chapter, in the chronicles of wet ink, that is a life.

Thinking, in a deliriously glass half full mode, the frost of the morning signifies the year past, while the full, golden glow, of winters' sun hails in hope. Not unlike a lighthouse, the sun doesn't promise warmth, nor can it decide your path, it is a tool of luminance to identify the shoreline. I conclude, those that choose not to see the sun, but focus on the frost, subject themselves to wander at sea; lost, pilot less.

I make my way back to the kitchen; it is humble with its' whites counters, and veneered cabinets. My tea, now cold, and almost empty, is in need of a refill. As I walk between the couch, and the half-wall that separates the living room from the kitchen, a nightstand displays my Bible. The black leather cover is dusty, its' pages still crisp and new. It has been months, maybe even years, since it had caught my attention. This day, a frosty, sunny metaphor of a day, though, it has thrown itself at me; demanded my attention, not to be ignored.

The cover finds itself in my hands, even though I don't remember picking it up. My cup, now replacing the Bible on the nightstand. The pages flip through my fingers, opening itself, surely not by my command or control. I find myself in Psalms, “The Lord is my light and salvation; whom shall I fear?” Re-reading the passage, admittedly more than once, I find it to be true; not only spiritually, but succinctly to the morning. Sun from above, frost below, suddenly, miraculously, it became clear.

This year, the New Year, will not smell of forgotten resolutions, lost promises, or searching faith. A simple 'look up, not down' principle will dawn 2010, because I know what frost looks like, and what it feels like, and where it doesn't lead. This is the year, I ask to bask in the glow of the light, seeking it, using it to search my shoreline; wherever it may lead.

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Army vs. Navy vs. Politics

I stood in the middle of the living room, my eyes transfixed upon a Saturday morning football game. Not unusual. Today's game though, is everything but usual. Not every game finds me choking back emotions of pride, hope, and those of prayer, during the pre-game monologue. It is a game like no other. One, in which, epitomizes the times, the world, and the very heartbeat of our country. Today is Army vs. Navy.

The pageantry embedded in this game is enough to raise every last hair on your neck. For the Seniors of, both, West Point and the Naval Academy, today will be the last time they face one another as adversaries. Soon, they will be deployed, as brothers in arms, defending their country, their beliefs, and one another. Some won't return home; a fact we all know, but one in which they embrace. The perils of our greatness as a human kind, is the burden in which they live and die.

Today, isn't about being Republican, Democrat, or Independent; it's about Patriotism. Ideology doesn't ease the worry for loved ones, it has never cauterized a wound, nor can it revive the lost. The men and women of our Armed Forces believe in something greater than themselves. A belief based upon honor, duty, and love of country. They volunteer their sacrifice, the blood and breath of their soul, for that belief. A belief they have in America. A belief they have in us.

To believe, in them, isn't a departure from the values that guide us, as individuals, it is what makes us a united coalition of Americans. May God guide them down a path of peace, with a beacon of light to show them home, whether it be of this Earth or otherwise.