Editors are all too human. Most of them would agree that their occupational hazard is tension, aggravated when one thing piles on another in and out of the office. December days, for this editor, were laced together by a rope of roses and thorns. Friend wife underwent major surgery (no malignancy) followed by a slow and painful recovery. Oldest daughter Judy presented us with the first grandchild, a seven-pound four-ounce girl. Third daughter Nancy came home from college with a diamond ring and a June wedding date. Meanwhile, back at the office, changes in printer and typesetter created a temporary frenzy. Christmas came and went accompanied by prayers that the New Year would bring a slower pace and more time for thoughtful reflection.
Now that the trees are bare I can look out my office window and see the Custis-Lee Mansion in Arlington Cemetery, below which lie the bodies of John and Robert Kennedy. The sight is a solemn reminder of the beauty of being alive and of the truth that, despite its tensions and tempests and trials, life is a great privilege. In the foreground of my window scene is the White House, guarded by sentinel-like trees that in winter leave the residence in full view. Inside that house is a man on whose shoulders are laid greater burdens than most of us bear—one for whom, whatever our political views, we should pray earnestly and daily.
In the midst of winter, spring is not far away, and with it the happy thought of an earth that renews itself even as God in Christ renews us daily—winter, spring, summer, and fall.
