I have yet to meet someone reluctant to say good-by to 2020; in fact, good riddance is what one hears most often.   That said, in the major shifts and changes in 2020 there are seeds for renewal and new life.   In striving to say good riddance to a world framed by race and injustice, we may be entering a new and life-giving space.   In losing the casual ability to connect in person, we may prioritize seeing one another more fully with compassion, empathy and joy.    We may come to see what church really is all about: loving one another as deeply as oneself.

Here are two blessings to carry us into the New Year.

On the day when
 The weight deadens
 On your shoulders
 And you stumble,
 May the clay dance
 To balance you.
 

 And when your eyes
 Freeze behind
 The grey window
 And the ghost of loss
 Gets in to you,
 May a flock of colours,
 Indigo, red, green,
 And azure blue,
 Come to awaken in you
 A meadow of delight.
 

 When the canvas frays
 In the currach of thought
 And a stain of ocean
 Blackens beneath you,
 May there come across the waters
 A path of yellow moonlight
 To bring you safely home.
 

 May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
 May the clarity of light be yours,
 May the fluency of the ocean be yours,
 May the protection of the ancestors be yours.
 

 And so may a slow
 Wind work these words
 Of love around you,
 An invisible cloak
 To mind your life.
 

 John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us
 
THE YEAR AS A HOUSE
 A Blessing
 Think of the year
 as a house:
 door flung wide
 in welcome,
 threshold swept
 and waiting,
 a graced spaciousness
 opening and offering itself
 to you.
 Let it be blessed
 in every room.
 Let it be hallowed
 in every corner.
 Let every nook
 be a refuge
 and every object
 set to holy use.
 Let it be here
 that safety will rest.
 Let it be here
 that health will make its home.
 Let it be here
 that peace will show its face.
 Let it be here
 that love will find its way.
 Here
 let the weary come
 let the aching come
 let the lost come
 let the sorrowing come.
 Here
 let them find their rest
 and let them find their soothing
 and let them find their place
 and let them find their delight.
 And may it be
 in this house of a year
 that the seasons will spin in beauty,
 and may it be
 in these turning days
 that time will spiral with joy.
 And may it be
 that its rooms will fill
 with ordinary grace
 and light spill from every window
 to welcome the stranger home.
 

 Jan Richardson