JOURNAL

CLEAN SLATES
January 30, 2009

I’m excited about ’09. A new President in the White House. Hope in the air. And for what it’s worth, the Chinese Zodiac predicts that this year, the year of the Ox, will be a good, grounding year, marked by strength through unity, harmony, hard work, and obedience. Not to mention, odd-numbered years have historically been good to me. And I like new years in general, the idea of starting over with a clean slate. Seeing all those empty boxes on my calendar, just waiting to be filled. What will I accomplish? Where will I go? Who will I meet? Who will I be a year from now? But with the excitement comes an accompanying smidgen of fear. Will our economy worsen? Will there be more terrorist attacks? Who and what in my life might I lose?

Only a few days into ‘09, I heard on the local news that there had already been three homicides in Louisville. One of my girlfriends told me that over the holidays a friend of hers had killed his girlfriend, then himself. That same week I also learned that one of the Sudanese refugee women from Catholic Charities’ ESL school, where I volunteer, committed suicide, leaving behind six sons. I spoke to a friend just yesterday whose boyfriend beat her up and is now in jail.

How quickly the clean slate becomes sullied.

Several years ago, beginning with the winter solstice, I decided that instead of dreading the coming cold and dreary days, I would teach myself how to love winter. And I did. Or so I thought, until this year’s recent cold snap. I’ve had to revisit the journal I kept during that time in which I recorded my endeavor to find something beautiful in nature each and every day, no matter how gray the skies or frigid the temperatures.

Some days I found the task easy. I loved observing the sycamore trees lining the creek behind my house, the contrast of their white mottled trunks against a blue winter sky. Or the apricot tinge in the night sky before a snowfall. I liked how my vision seemed to expand in winter, how the denuded trees allowed me to see things I’d missed in other seasons. Other days I had to really work at finding something beautiful, sometimes finding beauty in things I normally wouldn’t have, like the buzzard I saw on the side of the road feasting on a dead carcass. It reminded me that death and life are always interconnected.

If I couldn’t find something beautiful (to my eyes), I’d look for something new or unexpected or interesting. Nature always delivered. Here’s something I wrote during that time as I looked out at the woods in my backyard:

There is not a breath of life outside. No sooner do I write this than I see a few birds. Back and forth from tree to tree, as if maneuvering through a busy four-way stop, some going before their turn. Sneaky creatures, gunning for that last berry, the highest perch.

That was how I taught myself how to love winter: by being attentive, looking for color and light and life in all that sea of gray--a lesson I had forgotten lately when the temperatures plummeted and the bad news rolled in. I hope to start retraining my eyes to the beauty all around me, to remember the sun still shines somewhere beyond the gray skies and is as potent as ever, even if I can’t feel its warmth.

Out of every end, a new beginning:

Despite the tragedy involving the Sudanese refugee I referenced earlier, something positive is emerging from it. A Habitat for Humanity Home is being built for the family. Anyone who might be interested in helping can send monetary donations to Catholic Charities or volunteer their time building the new home. Monetary donations will go toward the home, expected to be completed this spring. Checks should be made out to Catholic Charities, with the memo line stating “Akum Akoul” or “Sudanese refugee home,” and sent to the following:

Chris Clements
Catholic Charities
Migration & Refugee Services
2911 South Fourth Street
Louisville, KY 40208