Alive together
Christmas was lovely. We ate a lot, we played card games, Martin lost a bet against me (silly being for betting against me when it comes to movies), I still need to pay people for Christmas presents, I have no idea where my black gloves are, and mom got me without a doubt the best Christmas present this year: she made a photo album with pictures of all of us in 2o11. I nearly cried when I saw it. My family doesn't really take a lot of pictures in general, and we're even worse with actual printing and cataloguing them. So that she took the time and made the effort means a great deal to me. Thank you, mom!
I read the navitiy tale to the congregation during Christvesper on Christmas Eve. I've been doing this for years now and I love it as much as ever. It's my personal tradition, and I'm even a bit glad that my family doesn't come with me to church (we go all together on Boxing Day) because then I couldn't walk back home on my own. I love getting out of church, all the people mingling, and me just being a bit apart. It gives me the time to look at the church, at the warm glow coming from the lights illuminating it, and being on my own. I don't feel alone, though. It's one of these times when I feel close to God, when I just know that someone is watching out for all of us. I treasure this moment every year.
I also love New Year's Eve. I love spending it with people I love. I love talking to them, laughing with them, playing silly games and drinking more alcohol than is probably healthy (which we somehow didn't do this year, we were pretty tame). I love that I'm still friends with all these people.
What I love most, however, are the fireworks at midnight. I love that for a short while everything else is forgotten and that there's simply the joy of looking at the exploding stars, the bursts of color. I feel like time is suspended and there's only the happiness of the moment. People forgetting their worries and hoping with all they have for a better, happier year; a new beginning where it doesn't matter how much we failed before, how sad we were, how imperfect. It's a new chance, and for one moment in time it's there for us all to revel in it. It also reminds me how much I love humankind, and for some strange reasons it gives me hope: that we're not only a bunch of morons somewhat lucky enough to be allowed to walk a few years on earth, but that there is some inherent goodness in all of us that makes it actually worthwile putting up with us for everyone. Reading this also helps to remind me ^^.
Click to view2o11 has been outright shitty and horribly in some parts. It has been amazing and breathtaking in others. Words failed me when I needed them the most. Words were also my biggest ally at other times. My heart broke over things I couldn't change, people I couldn't help. I learnt that there are times when there is nothing I can do, when simply being there is all that I can offer. I learnt that this can be enough. I drifted away from people. I left people behind who only made me unhappy. I made new friends. I grew closer to another friend. I still can't think about Pro Bono without laughing till my ribs hurt. I still love teaching. I still firmly believe that Germany will win the Euro 2o12. I grew closer to God. Fandom kept being the most amazing and irritating thing I've had the pleasure of being part of. I became a godmother. I don't know if I became a better person, but at least I tried.
This is a thank you to all of you. Thank you for 2o11, for being there during all of its highs and lows, and I hope you'll stay around for 2o12. A happy and blessed new year to all of you.
This poem is endless, the odds against us are endless,
our chances of being alive together
statistically nonexistent;
still we have made it.
- from "Alive together" by Lisel Mueller