Year End Reflection

 

I’d felt something on the bottom of my shoe for the past couple of days. Thinking it was a rock that would dislodge itself, I didn’t examine the shoe until today. 

 

That’s when I noticed not a rock but a piece of metal. Evidently, a shard of tin had gotten itself wedged into my shoe the last time I was in the studio. 

 

When I was finally able to get the shard out—it wouldn’t come loose without pliers—I was extremely thankful for my safety shoes and how they kept me from having a pretty serious impalement on the bottom of my foot. 

 

So for all the times I was stupid in 2025 and did things like not wear my safety shoes in the studio but somehow walked away unscathed, 

And for all the times I was sane in 2025 and did things like paint shutters in actual paint clothes in Belize, 

I give thanks. 

 

For all of the things I have seen,

For all of the things I would like to unsee. 

For all of the ways I have been blessed, 

For all of the ways I hope I have been a blessing. 

For laughter and tears, 

For joys and sorrows. 

For days I excelled, 

For days I barely scraped by. 

For tin art and blackout poetry, 

For church and weddings and commissionings and and retreats. 

For Atlanta and Boone, 

For Belize and NYC and Jacksonville. 

For Wicked and Zootopia, 

For local theater and traveling shows. 

For television game shows, 

For cooking shows that made me eat. 

For Annie Mae and Sigma Ray,

For family and friends too numerous to name. 

For trying a doctoral program but knowing when to walk away.

I give thanks. 

 

For breath and light and sighs and resistance and therapy and creativity and protest and art and music and Peace that cannot be explained by this crazy, broken world, 

I give thanks. 

 

May I—

May we—

Leave behind that which needs to fade and

Carry forth that which needs to grow. 

 

And may I—

May we—

Avoid the tin shards of waste by 

Wearing our safety shoes of creation 

In the studio and beyond. 

 

Amen.