Bleak. It's a bleak winter, and it's getting to me. Badly. But, I find little pieces to hang on to. One of the houses on my block still has it's Christmas lights up, and I just want to shout "Hallelujah, God bless 'em!" I think it's one of the harshest aspects of January -- no more Christmas lights. December's full of berries and greenery and lights and food and family and all the cozy warmth associated with winter...but then comes January. Cold, grey, merciless. Everyone goes back home or back to work, the lights come down, the tree and garlands are gone. Everything looks dull, colorless, cold.

I was describing to Dan the other day how the North Carolina beach cottage was the only place I felt like me. That was beginning to change, but this winter's making me wonder. I don't feel like myself lately. It's like I'm hibernating, and it's affecting my mood. Heg suggested the other day that I start going outside to watch the sunrise and the sunset. She said that despite the cold, just being outside and watching something beautiful unfold will rejuvinate me. Maybe she's right.

I tried it tonight. Although I missed the actual sun setting, I caught the last few vestiges of light before it was night. It was only for 15 mintues, but just taking the time to really look at something worth looking at...I started crying. I couldn't help it. I felt naked in front of the sky. Like it had the power to look back at me. And I was afraid. I was afraid.

Looking into the sky sometimes...it's like the feeling when you look into the mirror --not to admire or criticize -- just to look at yourself. In the eye, nakedly...and hold it. What do you feel?

Do you feel fear? Do you feel love? Do you feel disappointment? Do you feel peace? I feel everything. I felt the same as I looked at the sky tonight. It's like I'm facing the judgement seat of God - my life lying nakedly before me, and I can't alter a thing. I can't influence the way it sounds or looks, or choose what I reveal or what I hold back. It's all there. And on that table, cut with a scalpel of honesty so sharp that I've never truly dared to use it, I'm open.

...and I find truth. An in that truth I find myself. And it's not so bad.

I found mercy and understanding and appreciation where in my life I had only impatience and demands for perfection and taking the good for granted.

And I found condemnation where in my life I only had excuses -- but now they are cut aside, and I discover that I don't mind it, and I can bear it. Because there is a mercy and a love so profound that I'd never imagined it like this (and I'm only feeling a piece of it -- just a sliver that has filtered through all the barriers between me and God), and I never dared to look it in the eye.

It burns. It burns. But it's the very heat and warmth that I've longed for all my life. And I feel to say: let it burn. Let it burn away all that never belonged there in the first place, and if I'm left with little more than nothing, then that little will be more than I had my whole life. Because it will be me. The only pure me that there is. And for once, it will be on the surface, not hidden under layers of selfishness and insecurity and doubt and materialism and mindless distractions that don't...mean...anything...to me.