The Darkest Day
It is the shortest, darkest day of the year today. Winter solstice. And yet, there is blue sky, and the sun keeps pushing through the clouds, undeterred. There is a metaphor in there somewhere, for the state of the world right now, where there is so much darkness, so much insidious darkness.
From here, the days will begin to lengthen. The sun will rise earlier in the morning. There will be more light. The tiny kernel of promise, the little flame of light, that seems so small during these dark days, will grow and grow, until it is almost all we can see. The darkness never disappears, but it never triumphs either.
Last week, family blew in from all corners of the globe, from Sydney and London and Amsterdam, and it was wonderful. We had a long weekend of German Christmas treats and coffees and vegemite Brötchen and catch ups. The kids were fussed over and die Lüdde ate way too many Zimtsterne. It was a big dose of familial cheer and carried us almost all the way to Heilige Abend’s front door.
Holy Evening. Christmas Eve. I don’t believe in a God, but I respect your right to. I believe, though, in the sanctity of family, however that family is formed. I believe in the faith we place in each other, in community. And I believe that this time of year is a time to draw close and celebrate each other and that which binds us as family, as community.
So Merry Christmas to all of you. Draw close. Let the light in.