The statues of Mary and Joseph in my front yard, which once belonged to my grandmother, were pummelled by the wind for weeks gave way and are now shrouded with snow. When I tried to pick up Mary, the cement felt brittle in the cold and i thought i should let them rest until Spring.
It is Spring at my college, or rather that is what this semester is named, “Spring 15”. There is so much darkness, as I spend my days in a windowless room and come out only when the sun has set. I don’t mind it much  in this kind of weather and actually feel cozy at midday but early in the morning before I leave for work I am filled with dread as I anticipate the muted light. There are a few moments when i feel really alive and participating in something greater than myself. Last week a mother came in filled with immense dignity and anger for her disabled child. As we talked her anger turned into heaving sobs. How dearly she wanted to protect her child from pain. I was humbled to witness her great love. The last time i was at the labyrinth the ground was flooded in one of the quadrants yet frozen and crunchy in others. The garden was brown and sad and abandoned.

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