For Auld Lang Syne, My Dear!

 

NAuldLangSyne_ElementPreviewever a Christmas morning

Never the New Year ends

But someone thinks of someone

Old days, old times, old friends.

Every New Year’s Eve for the past 35 years my husband and I have gathered with the same group of twelve dear friends for an impressive lobster dinner to ring in the New Year.

These annual events usually occur in one of our homes and involve elaborate preparationHappy-New-Year-2015s: trappings like hearty appetizers, designer cocktails, champagne, individual butter dishes, lobster picks and crackers, huge boiling pots, individual salads, unique side dishes, and profiteroles.   A highlight is the annual delightfully detailed reading of how to eat a lobster from Joy of Cooking as we labor over the careful dismemberment of our crustaceans.

Our memorable gatherings have grown in sophistication over the years. The men noNewYearPeoplew wear tuxes; the ladies fancy outfits. The table decked out to the nines with the best silver, crystal, and china. The ambiance music perfectly selected and the party hats and noisemakers ready. One friend even brings a crystal ball to ‘drop’ as the countdown reaches ‘zero’ and New Year appears.

This year the hosts prepared and presented a 35-year reflection slide show with photos from the beginning of our times together onward. My how young and skinny we all were! Some of us had more hair back then. Others had impressive perms highlighting tightly curled bobs. Interesting to note how some of the same outfits appear again from year to year and how much more grown-up we all look now.

As we laughed and reminisced our way thru this colorful, rich personal history I couldn’t htime-flyselp but think of the words of Ecclesiastes:

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

The New Years Eve montage captures the angst of the painful truth. James, the Apostle, said it something like this:   “My lifeone-precious-life-200-27 is my breath on a cold day–it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.”

Sometimes I wish I had the power to stop the hourglass sand.  As Miranda July said in No One Belongs Here More Than You, “Inelegantly, and without my consent, time passed.” 

Last Saturday our son, daughter-in-law, and their beloved pet left our home to go back to theirs in Washington, DC after a delightful two-week holiday visit. The house rang with flurries of activity, laughter, quiet family times, and good conversation. A montage of mostly delightful memories, except when the doggie terrorized the cat. But even that seemed redeemable; funny somehow.

The moment they left, the silence crept in like a heavy mist almost stifling my warm, happy thoughts. One brief time and they’re gone.

As I pondered the stillness, suddenly, like bright sun shining thru clouds to reveal a clear blue sky, the words to an old, favorite hymn lifted the fog in my melancholy mind to remind me that amid the ever-changing landscape montage of my life, as times and seasons come and go, one thing remains constant.

“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.  It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.  They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:21-23)

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee,
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not,
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above;
Join with all nature in manifold witness,
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own great presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.

Refrain:
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!


Rombauer, Irma S., and Marion Rombauer Becker. Joy of Cooking. New York, N.Y.: Bobbs-Merrill, 1975. Pages 385-386. Print

July, Miranda. No One Belongs Here More than You: Stories. New York: Scribner, 2007. Print.

Pictures courtesy of—

http://www.anglotopia.net/countries/england/brit-language-auld-lang-syne-in-translation/

http://www.calendariu.com/tag/happy-new-year-fireworks-png

http://www.21st-century-christianity.com/One-Precious-Life.html

http://georgetownmusictown.com/2014/12/23/new-years-eve-in-georgetown/

http://writing.wikinut.com/img/1jo98-t3frf6pigz/time-flys

http://beardmonkey.net/2013/11/26/infinite-hourglass/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every New Year’s Eve for the past 35 years my husband and I have gathered with the same group of twelve dear friends for an impressive lobster dinner to ring in the New Year.

 

These annual events usually occur in one of our homes and involve elaborate preparations: trappings like hearty appetizers, designer cocktails, champagne, individual butter dishes, lobster picks and crackers, huge boiling pots, individual salads, unique side dishes, and profiteroles.   A highlight is the annual delightfully detailed reading of how to eat a lobster from Joy of Cooking as we labor over the careful dismemberment of our crustaceans.

 

Our memorable gatherings have grown in sophistication over the years. The men now wear tuxes; the ladies fancy outfits. The table decked out to the nines with the best silver, crystal, and china. The ambiance music perfectly selected and the party hats and noisemakers ready. One friend even brings a crystal ball to ‘drop’ as the countdown reaches ‘one’ and New Year appears.

 

This year the hosts prepared and presented a 35-year reflection slideshow with photos from the beginning of our times together onward. My how young and skinny we all were! Some of us had more hair back then. Others had impressive perms highlighting tightly curled bobs. Interesting to note how some of the same outfits appear again from year to year and how much more grown-up we all look now.

 

As we laughed and reminisced our way thru this colorful, rich personal history I couldn’t help but think of the words of Ecclesiastes:

 

To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die;

A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;

A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;

A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.

 

The New Years Eve montage captures the angst of the painful truth. James, the Apostle, said it something like this:   “My life is my breath on a cold day–it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.”

 

Sometimes I wish I had the power to stop the hourglass sand.

 

As Miranda July said in No One Belongs Here More Than You, “Inelegantly, and without my consent, time passed.”
Last Saturday our son, daughter-in-law, and their beloved pet left our home to go back to theirs in Washington, DC after a delightful two-week holiday visit. The house rang with flurries of activity, laughter, quiet family times, and good conversation. A montage of mostly delightful memories, except when the doggie terrorized the cat. But even that seemed redeemable; funny somehow.

 

The moment they left, the silence crept in like a heavy mist almost stifling my warm, happy thoughts. One brief warm time and they’re gone.

 

As I pondered the stillness, suddenly, like bright sun shining thru clouds to reveal a clear blue sky, the words to an old, favorite hymn lifted the fog in my melancholy mind to remind me that amid the ever-changing landscape montage of my life, as times and seasons come and go, one thing remains constant.

 

“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.  It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not.  They are new every morning: great is Thy faithfulness.” (Lamentations 3:21-23)

 

 

 

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee,
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not,
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon, and stars in their courses above;
Join with all nature in manifold witness,
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy, and love.

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth,
Thine own great presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today, and bright hope for tomorrow
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside.

Refrain:
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord unto me!

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