2009 is here.
That can be a frightening statement. It lays before me like unexplored compost.
I had a dream the other night where I was surrounded by dark dung. It covered every surface. Its dried and crusty depths repulsed me. But then in the midst of its unyielding blackness, globes of light began to spring forth. They rose and shown illustriously over acres and acres of surfaces. Exponentially seedlings began bursting out of the dull ground, throwing off the oppressive blankets of smelly gloom.
Soon enough I was surrounded by the most glorious colors imaginable, vegetation and blossoms all around me, spilling out farther and farther flung towards mountains in the distance until it was all one blanket of vivid hue.
Then I woke up.
So yes, as I ponder yet another year of life, I realize the significance of 2009. Will it be a year of dung or a year of tumultuous color, made beautiful by the oppressive years of painful pasts? Not just for me, but for all mankind.
I’d say it’s time we all become farmers, using the dung of painful choices from others’ hands to create gardens of life and color and joy. Time to get creating!