This time of year, I become nostalgic for things and times long past, short past, and never past ….
This is a Presbyterian Church, one of several on Clayton Road. I love its stately lines, illuminated in the dark of a late December night.
This is not my church, nor is it my faith.
I was sent to a Catholic school in Jamaica, New York, and subsequently, was taught the Catholic faith, but it was not practiced at home and Sunday services were not part of our rituals. Every now and then, I’ll get a hankering for the ritual of the Mass, and I’m good there until the homily. That’s when I invariably remember why I stay away from the Church….
But it’s Christmas Eve eve. I have to work tomorrow, a “short” day, 7:30 to 3 as opposed to 7:30 to 4, which is my normal hours. I have no complaint really, grateful to have a job in this crazy day and age.
I’m grateful to know so many wonderful people in this world, and grateful to love so many of them. I’m grateful to be able to take photos and share them, and be able to write.
This is such an amazing world.
With a click of a mouse, we are connected to so many others. We find out that we’re not that different, that we all want food, clothing, shelter; we want to earn our livelihoods, and we want to raise our children. We want to feel secure in knowing that the work we offer in return for wages is fairly compensated. We want to hope that each tomorrow will be a better day than today, which was a better day than yesterday.
“You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one….”