December Light

As I drove across the Oneida Street bridge over the Fox River Wednesday, on my way to visit someone at St. Elizabeth’s Hospital. I found delight in a bank of clouds. This bridge arches high above the river and offers some great views. On this afternoon, the clouds which had given us so much rain earlier in the week had rolled away to the southeast. It was one of the few times all week we’d had sunshine; and from that bridge, I could see the departing clouds, a billowy fringe on the horizon, looking, oh, so beautiful.

These clouds had left rainwater in many basements, my own included. Green Bay, 30 miles to the north, had gotten even more. (To those of you who’re used to heavy rains and wonder what the fuss is about, I can only offer that Wisconsinites are used to having a foot – or more – of snow this time of year. Rain just seems out of place. )

Green Bay, Wisconsin, December 2015

Looking at that wide ribbon of cloud, I thought of the rains that had caused sewers to back up, and of parents who had hidden presents in their basements, only to have them ruined. Sometimes the most innocuous things, like rain, can lead to devastation.

Sao Paulo, Brazil after the 2011 rains, floods, and mudslides

Of course, disasters don’t need to be this catastrophic to rock our world. Between us, we know quite a few people who haven’t made it to the end of the year. Some of us have lost jobs. Others have lost homes. We’ve suffered disappointments and dashed hopes.

December has been difficult for me in that we’ve had more cloudy days than usual; and with no snow to bounce back that occasional sunlight, it’s been a dark month. I thought of this as I drove over the bridge during those moments of brightness before the sun set (at 4:15!)

Each of us lives life as best we can; yet sometimes we endure things that just lay a pall over everything, like a too-early sunset. I remember the lament in C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, “Always winter but never Christmas.” Lewis realized that we could all connect with the heartache that seems as if it’ll never end, the hope that continues to elude us.

The winter solstice arrives Tuesday. The shortest day. Even if the sun shines, there’re be less of it on that day than on any other in the year.

With so many, sometimes loudly, cheerful people around us, with holiday music blaring from every store or restaurant speaker, the next week will be a difficult one for many people. Some of our friends are in those difficult, dark places; maybe you are yourself. If so, find a way to worship the holy this week, just as you are. I’ll be leading a Longest Night service Monday at First Church. Sometimes they’re called Blue Christmas. These services are a lot more prolific than they were even eight years ago. Find one and be enveloped in the love of God for you and all of creation.

If you’re not in that place this year, then you can be part of a solution. When we’re not stressed, we can practice a calm that may help others. We can practice being present with the person in front of us, listening as if she’s the only one in the world. If I – if we – make time for those things that nourish our being, then we can “be with” that other person more fully than we could if we gave in to the busyness and didn’t feed our souls.

So I’ll play piano after I post this. What does the deepest part of you call out for?

Make time for it.