Sunrise: 10:01 A.M.
Sunset: 3:53 P.M.
Day length: Five hours and fifty-one minutes, a gain of twenty-one seconds over yesterday.
Today is the day after the shortest day, when we finally gain light again instead of losing it, when darkness loses its bitter hold on our hours, our minds, our hearts.
I love winter solstice-- and this year more than ever, I need to celebrate the return of daylight.
A lot can change in 21 seconds.
A car can cross the centerline, a baby can take its first breath, a hand can pull a trigger, an apology can land with grace, a heart can cease it's music, a kiss can alter the direction of lives.
We can light a candle and place it in our window for the world to see.
We can cut down a tree.
For our Christmas tree this year, we salvaged the top of a tree that broke in one of our first big winter storms. It is not nearly as full as the farm-raised trees shipped to Alaska; but it is a homegrown Spruce, given a memorial service in our living room, bedecked with ornaments made and collected over the years.
It seems fitting for this year, for our lives, to take the shattered pieces and hang a star upon them, decorate the severed limbs with memories, while creating something new.
To find beauty in brokenness.
To begin again.
To always begin again.
This year has been rough in more ways than words can capture, in ways we never imagined, in ways beyond language.
As I write, rain pummels our roof-- cold December rain, snow's dreaded second cousin who steals the joys of winter.
Yesterday saw me sledding and skiing down our driveway, as the fluffy flakes graced my smiling face. Today, I do not want to get out of bed to meet the dreary wet darkness.
This weather yoyo reflects my emotional state this year, as if mother nature acts out the inner turmoil many of us feel, as we waiver between hope and despair, joy and sorrow.
And yet, today, we see twenty-one more seconds of light--with more to gain each day, till the accumulation adds up to minutes, eventually hours, as the sun rises higher in the sky, and we feel its sacred warmth again.
Change is coming, even if it still feels far away.
And maybe we can't return to the way things were--or maybe we don't want to--so what do we want to create in the days and months and years ahead?
What visions do we hold?
Thank you for the healing contribution. I’m looking forward to reading more of your writings.
Posted by: Cath Halley | 12/22/2020 at 03:54 PM
I had to take pause and digest this:
“A lot can change in 21 seconds.
A car can cross the center line, a baby can take its first breath, a hand can pull a trigger, an apology can land with grace, a heart can cease it's music, a kiss can alter the direction of lives.”
Christy Jordan, you are officially my favorite author.
Posted by: Sarah Spanos | 12/23/2020 at 04:32 AM
Thank you Cath--I have years of writing posted here and hope to still be writing for years to come.
Sarah you make me smile--thanks so much for the encouragement.
Posted by: Christy | 12/23/2020 at 10:04 AM