"Life's like an hourglass glued to the table"

2006 has barely begun, and I can’t help but look forward with optimism and anticipation. So much has happened to my soul in recent months. I’m not a new person, just a more authentic one.

Glancing back at 2005, I see there’s a lot of room for regret. I choose instead to follow the advice of Katherine from Under the Tuscan Sun that “Regrets are a waste of time. They're the past crippling you in the present.” Or join Rent’s Life Support group in chanting, “Forget regret or life is yours to miss.”

However, there are moments when the past catches me and regret seeps into my soul. My eyes sting from restraining tears and I wonder at the grisliness of my still-gaping wounds. At times like these, I pick at emergent scabs until they bleed afresh. The falling scarlet only rekindles my misery as I realize I’ve just taken a giant leap backward in my healing journey by entertaining that two-faced monster called regret.

A few days ago, I walked silently along the shoreline of a small island off the coast of Naples, FL. My quarry had been seashells, but I found myself instead contemplating a piece of green glass softened by the sea. I considered the crashing waves that once assailed the fragment before it came to rest on that very beach. What tribulation it must have endured to go from sharp and clear to soft and dull! I could hold it in my hand without fear of laceration, but I could no longer see through it with any degree of clarity. I think how easy it could be for me to become like the sea-weathered glass. I pray to God that never happens.

Whatever happens, I don’t want to lose my transparency. I will look forward to the future, denying my impulse to hide who I really am in a useless attempt at safety. I cannot recover the lost sands of time from 2005; I cannot undo what is done. I can only accept my life as it now is and thank God for delivering me into such verdant pastures.