Walking home across the far northern end of the park, the winter sunset reflecting in the meer, I see it.
Sitting in a tiny conference room with a critical care fellow and a son, helping sort out decisions nobody wants to make, I hear it.
Kneading fresh made bread dough of just a handful of ingredients, I smell it.
Sitting at a cafe table in animated conversation with someone I’d like to get to know better, I sense it.
In a lazy Saturday morning that makes the rest of the world fade away, I touch it.
In belting out every random song that pops up with iTunes on shuffle, I voice it.
While standing at the altar, repeating the ancient words and acts that make the common holy, I know it.
The overwhelming feeling of being back. Renewed enthusiasm, joy, motivation, desire, purpose, delight, gratitude, ecstasy, energy.
Somehow in the midst of the winter cold renewal has begun. The light is returning. Disillusion is fading. Desolation is disappearing. Depression is losing. And I am coming, have come, back to life.