The year expired with a final gasp of well-wishing by millions to whoever else would listen. It expelled bursts of burning color into the sky, decorating black cities across the globe with dancing displays of light and crackles and booms. Today, the empty lungs of the New Year attempt in inhale enough breath just to get up and resume life again. The cares of the upcoming new work week begin to seep into my dreams at night and just a little even during the day. The taste of cheese and wine fades as the morning treats of more cheese and eggs and tea and coffee arouse me to the gray, barren winter morning. My warm robe covers a tired body as the smell of soap washes life onto my face. Then the aroma of coffee lifts my spirit a bit. The kazoo-like cacophony of curious strutting bands in Philadelphia twangs out of the TV speakers. The New Year begins, while thoughts of suffering or even dying friends remind me that no, the new year will not be happy or prosperous for all. Only assurance of eternity with the risen Jesus--who punched death a knock-out blow--can provide that.