SUDDENLY, it is the last day of 2001. Zoom! All gone! I blinked and almost missed it. Still haven't had time to catch my breath. What do I write? What do I say?

I must say that 2001 had two very distinct halves to it. The first half found me working my brains out and pushing myself to the limit, mostly for a promotion. Then I switched positions, got my brain all scrambled in Java class and kind of floated around half-numb for the rest of the year. For me, caught in the transition between two distinct job positions, the work was slow. But that half of the year also brought new and unique opportunities into my life. Someone wrote and asked why my journal writing virtually stopped. He asked, "Are you busy, sick, in love?" All I could say was, "Yes. Sort of. YES." I became busy with side business. I will admit that I have been in love. If you have been in love you know that you become "sort of" sick and you become even busier.

NOW, do I want to give everyone all of the details of being in love? Not really. That is why journal entries around here have been rather sparse. It feels almost sacrilegious to write about it. There is almost a superstitious phobia that if I write about it I will jinx myself and the whole thing will fall apart. At the same time, there is such a desire to tell the whole world about her. You know, when you are in love you just want to tell everyone. There are certain pains and heartaches that accompany love. Somehow, telling someone about the one you love takes the edge off of missing them when you are not together. They seem closer while you hear your own voice talking of how wonderful they are.

SOMETIMES I wonder if the "certain pains and heartaches" in love are residuals from past relationships in which one has been hurt. Exposure to pain creates a reluctance to expose oneself to the same pain. Is that not the whole point of spanking a child? The physical pain is meant to condition their behavior and to teach them to avoid that which is wrong or harmful to themselves and others around them. Does not the heart have its own pains that are so much harder to bear than physical pain? Who can live with a wrecked and bleeding heart? Thankfully, as the body, so the heart, there are ways of healing. Yet, realistically, as the body, so the heart, some wounds leave scars. May the scars make us all wiser, more experienced and better equipped to love more deeply and sincerely.

Is love easy? Not true love. Infatuation may be easy. Love is not. Why? Because love is more than an emotion. It is a commitment. It is a decision of the heart to care for another person and to live for their well being. It is a conscious choice to love that person as much as you love yourself. Often it is a choice to sacrifice your own wants and sometimes needs in order to make another's life better. It might be large sacrifices. It may only be small sacrifices. Usually it is the latter. Ordinary life does not consist of stellar performances of heroism very often. Rather, it is made up of repeated, mundane little sacrifices and commitments. It is the daily loving and caring for another person in this way that reveals the heart of the hero. It would be glorious, and I might venture, even easy to die for someone. But can I LIVE for someone day by day? Can I get past early-relationship-euphoria and love this human being with both her wonderfulness and her weakness? That is the test. The earth-stopping, history-making displays of one-time sacrifices on behalf of a loved one are awesome and great, the stuff daydreams are made of. But can I still see how beautiful she is when she first wakes up in the morning and kiss her before she brushes her teeth? Perhaps I speak as a fool. Perhaps I know nothing at all. You decide.

NOW, the moon is rising in the cold Northeastern sky. Time is running out on 2001. There is so much more that I could say but won't. Why jinx myself at the beginning of a new year?