The Tired Old Year, and the New One Waiting

The old year is tired and ready to leave, sitting by the door,

while just over the threshold the new year waits.

It's New Year's Eve. In the house, you can hear excited voices chatting and a TV in the background. There's a roar of noise, and a broadcaster's saying, "There's a record crowd in Times Square tonight..."

But it's quiet out here on the front porch. There are just two people, one on each side of the door. Inside is an old man, sitting quietly in the dim light. His robes are a dingy grey, and his tired, gnarled hands hold a torch that flickers weakly.

On the other side of the threshold a child stands peering in. His face is bright with expectation, and he's hopping from foot to foot in impatience.

"Is it time yet? Is it time?" "Just a few minutes more." the old man speaks softly.

The child listens to the voices inside, paces up and down the porch and peers in again. He glances at the old man.

"So was it a good year?"

A pause. The old mans brows furrow. "What?"

"Was it good?" The child asks again.

"Hmm." He thinks a moment, then shakes his head. How could he possibly answer? "Put your hand on my eyes," he says. The boy hesitates, and then reaches out to lay his hand softly over the tired eyes.

A flood of images washes over him: war and heartbreak, dread and despair - but also music, courage, laughter and countless acts of unnoticed love. Desperate struggle, but glimmers of hope, too, in that darkness. Most of all, billions of people, young and old, living their lives, each one trying to find their way.

The child takes his hand away and takes a deep breath. His eyes are shining in the dim light. Is that a tear on his cheek? "I'll make it a good year for them," he says softly.

"No, my boy, that's not how it works. They have to do it themselves. You can only watch. Watch, and love."

Now the noise inside is growing, and they can hear the excited voices counting: "Five! Four! Three! Two! One, and - Happy New Year!" Amid the shouts and laughter and singing, the old man stands. He reaches out his torch, and the last dying sparks fall into the new one. The light blazes up, lighting the child's face, and he smiles.

The old one steps out, putting a brief hand on the child's shoulder, and then disappears into the night. And the new year, eyes shining, steps into our world.

As you welcome the new year into your lives tonight, I hope you'll find many

blessings on the road ahead. Let's keep working for a better world.

Happy New Year!