I remember reading about the romance of a ship pulling into a harbor and hearing the shouts of the stevedores as they moved about the business of loading and unloading the boats. Somewhere else I read about the cries of the cockneys as cabs pulled in and out of the coachyard of an inn. Both instances had sufficiently impressed their authors so as to comment on them, but I never thought about the poetry of such a situation until today when I pulled into an Oil Can Henry’s for an oil change. There were several mechanics moving around the autobay, assisting each other in the details of the three separate cars they were working on. They would shout to each other in a rhythmic sort of way, combinations of numbers (“447903”), technical terms, and cues (“Checking engine on number threeee”), and the whole thing sing-songed around the bay in a chorus of call and response that will probably go on as long as people work on things together.
All this goes to say that I was two quarts low on my oil, my transmission fluid is filthy, and I’m due to change fuel filter. I took care of the first one. The other two will have to wait a couple of months. There are apparently a couple of leaks as well. My poor car is getting to the point where I wonder if some of the more expensive treatments are really worthwhile, but on the other hand, a Buick is supposed to be good for as long as you take care of it. I might change my own air filter. That’s not hard to do. This year, I resolve to take better care of my car if at all possible.
There is something about the beginning of the year that adds impetus to turning over a new leaf. Not that the leaf will always stay turned. I heard on the radio the other day that 75% of people break their new year’s resolutions, 33% of them in the first week. And then we give up. Once it's broken, it's broken. But the energy inherent in new birth at least inspires the desire to make ourselves better people.
I think there's a Biblical precedent for this desire. I was reading the beginning of Exodus, when God instituted the Passover, and he made it the new beginning of their year. Life began from that point; they had a new identity. I can't speak for the people of Israel at that point, but I know that now, the Passover represents a time of cleansing. A Jews for Jesus representative told me a few years ago that to the Jew at Passover, the Feast of Unleavened Bread, leven or yeast represents sin. Passover is the time to sweep it out of one's home and life. Jewish housewives spend a lot of time sweeping up every bit of yeasted bread that they can find, leaving just a symbolic crumb for their husbands to dispose of (as a symbol of their responsibility as spiritual head). All yeast is disposed of to begin the year without sin.
I’ve been having mixed feelings about making New Years’ resolutions this year. It seems like everything I’d like to resolve, I’ve already resolved, broken, and put back together again. I just didn’t wait for New Years’ Day to begin. I mean, if something needs fixing, fix it; don’t put it on your calendar. Things like reading my Bible more astutely, praying more, exercising more, getting out of debt, and paying more attention to the people around me have been on my radar screen since last spring at least. Since I feel these things are really necessary to my physical and spiritual health, New Years’ Day didn’t really add a lot of urgency. It just reminded me that I didn’t have any new resolutions to make, and that I haven't been keeping the mid-year resolutions as well as I would like. In essence, my plate is full, and I just need to keep eating steadily.
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