the obligatory New Year post, belated

I have been listening to my life, exercising my memory like an atrophied muscle, gently but consistently. It's hard to play your own personal pyschiatric physical therapist, but worthwhile. Buried in my ordinary life is a supernatural love story, and in reading the past like a love letter I am romanced all over again, and acutely aware of how I have used the mundane as a shield against my Lover, betrayed Him by forgetting our history and thinking only on the here and now.

Let me touched by the alien hands of love forever, that this eye be not folly's loophole, but giver of due regard.

I love that phrase, "the alien hands of love." Forever alien, forever reaching for me. Folly peers out of my eyes as often as I forget that I have been touched by Love, that I am being touched by Love. In 2009, my prayer is that these eyes may indeed be givers of due regard, through love's transforming touch.