Welcome 2020. The good wishes have not stopped. I heard someone describe our New Year celebration as a sharp intake of breath in anticipation of better things. Some thought it was a sigh of relief.
I greeted the year on a high floor in BGC. Someone’s playlist was on, and it made me want to dance. They were playing Chicago. It made me nostalgic for our “swinging days” in Hawaii.
At the stroke of midnight, the sky was spectacular. The little ones were delighted. So was I. Corks were popped, glasses raised. The best toast of the night was a fervent prayer for family; for safety, peace and love. It was also a prayer of thanksgiving for the year that was.
This was not just another New Year’s Eve. It was the start of a new decade.
The very thought of that is quite exciting. For us in our 80s and upward, it can also be unnerving. But God is sovereign. We cannot second-guess Him. No matter how hard we try to take control, He reigns. And so it will be as He wills it.
There is a song from “The King and I” that goes: “Whenever I feel afraid, I hold my head erect, and whistle a happy tune, so no one will suspect, I’m afraid.”
I am doing a lot of whistling these days.
All things considered, 2019 was a happy old year for me. There was so much to be thankful for. But for some reason, as it made an exit, I found myself quite weepy. More than I can remember ever being in the past.
I am not sure I know why.
I could not shake the images of the bush fires in Australia.
For days I had felt this deep sense of fear and foreboding. What happened three days later in Iran did nothing to dispel my phantoms.
But something I once read comes to mind: “Do not dwell on the sad and ugly side of life. Look around and feel the magic of today. Be grateful for yesterday, but that’s over. Move forward. You have been given a clean slate. Make plans for new adventures, room for new memories. It’s time to shine.”
And I say, why not!
Friendly advice
I finally heard from a long lost friend. It took the end of a decade to make her resurface. Her greeting is a prayer of hope for the New Year. It is about all of us getting a fresh start and a blank page to write our story, and about “the beauty and kindness we can send forth.”
Then she asks one question: “Are you ready to leave the rot behind?”
Grudges were number one on her “get rid of” list. “Dump resentments. Regurgitate thoughts of getting even. Throw up the blame you carry for past mistakes and bad choices. Yes, you can do better, and you will.”
My immediate response is brief: Done!
In the dictionary, a grudge is defined as “a persistent feeling of ill will or resentment resulting from a past insult or injury” or an “ill feeling harbored because of some real or fancied wrong.” Think about it. Whatever causes a grudge could be just imagined. What a waste!
The synonyms for “grudge” are not pretty. The list includes bitterness, rancor, enmity or hatred.
I have seen families split apart and friendships ruined because of an old grudge. I remember some that did after the last elections. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, ties are severed and traditions totally ruined.
Today, cruel comments on social media exacerbate old hurts. The pain becomes unbearable. We air our grievances on cyberspace and grudges take root and a simple falling out becomes a vicious and shameful family feud.
Bitterness and pride soon make the gap between the combatants seem too wide to bridge. Pity.
Here is one more prayer for the New Year. I pray it is the start of kinder and gentler times; that 2020 marks our awakening to the true priorities in life; that it makes us pause and think about others and ask: “Who needs me today? What can I give?”
And then go out and do it!
New calendar
I don’t know about you but I get excited writing entries in my new 2020 appointments book. I start determined to be neat and fastidious but after a few pages, the book is a mess, with arrows, erasures, and assorted scribbles.
The year is not quite two weeks old and it’s starting to get busy, even for me.
January is full. In February we mark the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Manila.
Memories of the war start rushing in. On Feb. 3, 1945 in the early evening, United States liberation forces stormed into Santo Tomas University. Late that night, from our window, we heard the strains of “God Bless America.”
Was it really that long ago?
A memorial will be held at the Memorare Manila 1945 Monument at 8 a.m. on Feb. 15 followed by a Mass at Manila Cathedral. The sculpture by Peter de Guzman is located at Plaza Sta. Isabel, behind the Cathedral.
In that dark and tragic chapter of our history, 100,000 civilians lost their lives in the south of Manila, massacred by the defeated enemy or killed by “friendly fire.”
Our beautiful Manila lay in ruins for many years. I believe she never truly recovered. And for those of us who lived to tell the story, neither have our broken hearts.