A while ago I wrote about my new yellow backpack.  At the the time, the bright yellow backpack put a little skip in my step, but inevitably the backpack got old.  My organization failed; stray papers found themselves crumpled in the bottom, my many coffee spills dulled the yellow, and for about a week I even aimlessly carried around a hole punch without knowing it.  Little circle cutouts filled the bottom like an unwanted snow accompanied by crumbs, sticky-ness, and homework.  Newness completely gone.  Meh.

Growing up I would always buy my new school shoes during the summer and yearn for orientation when I was allowed to wear them.  The anticipation built so much that on the first day of school I would run home and clean the white soles.  However, we all knew by week 3 they would have been through puddles and mud and by Christmas I would be asking for/probably even needing another pair.

This weekend my mom and I went shopping.  We bought a new shirt and when I wore it, I got that little skip again.  No one knew it was new, but I certainly did.  However, every shirt in my closet was once new.

I’ve been reading through all of the Jane Austen novels, and as the narrative plays in my head, I some times have to chuckle about their society.  Idle women?  surely not! Oh the old times.

The new 2009 penny is only proud until 2010 comes.  And the video game my brother camped outside for will be a thing of the past next month.

I just pulled my backpack out of the washer.  It’s yellow once again, but I cannot trick myself into thinking it is new again.  I wish I could.  In a shallow human way, I like new things.

Things grow old. Sometimes they go out of style or they might break.  But most of the time they just lose their newness. lose excitement. lose priority.

There is only one thing that is new every day.  Yesterday I woke to it.  Today I did too, even before my feet hit the ground.  As will happen tomorrow.   :: His Mercies::

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.

God’s love is always an unread email in my inbox.  Sure, I can read it, but there will always be a new one when I get back.

My alarm clock ushers in these new mercies.  AND that, my friend, might be the only redeeming aspect of my alarm clock.