16 december

Sorrow enough to borrow without any thought of begging off or stealing away, the fray at the edges and the hedges needing mended—the friendless and the weary brushing off worries and hurrying past, catching no backward glances. These are days that should never come. Dark shadows cast longer and alphabets with the wrong number of letters for pronouncing with tongues that don’t make sense, throwing off the speakers who struggle with the details: this is not the right news, these are not the right views. Who would have done otherwise? Who would have said anything else? Those who do the job, who know the role, who say the words and mean it. To grow, to shape, to protect, to mold. There are tears and they are easy. There are answers and they are few. There is no job more important, no service more clear: to grow, to protect, to teach. I struggle, now, as I wonder how my days will change as my title does, and I wonder at the power of such events to shatter and to shake. Selfish and ego-ready to turn so swiftly inward, but I know this service, this mission will always be strong within me, and this dark breaking will turn slowly to healing and to remembrance, to love of strength and values, toward positive action and away from the creation of sensation.