How are you doing?  Friday was Winter Solstice, the shortest and darkest day of the year and the first day of winter.  It’s been raining a lot here the past week or so, so even though there’s a full moon up there somewhere, the clouds are so thick and the rain so persistent that I haven’t been able to see it.

My soul feels like that lately–despite what my social media feeds may look like.

I posted pictures last week of the cookie baking while watching Christmas movies.  What I didn’t say was that instead of the usual cry I have when The Muppet Christmas Carol was at the spot when the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come has Ebeneezer at the Cratchit’s house and finds out that Tiny Tim has died.  Because I always cry at that spot in the movie.

But this year…this year I had a full on ugly cry.  Sobs welled up from somewhere inside me and I just cried.

I’m glad I was home by myself.  I don’t like people seeing me cry.  And I don’t like admitting this to you right now.  But I think it matters that you know you’re not alone if you’ve had at least one major sob-fest so far this Christmas season/Advent.

And I cried myself to sleep Saturday night.  Did I know why I was sobbing into my pillow?  No, not fully.  And what I do know, I’m not ready to talk about.  I think it’s enough that you know.

2018 hasn’t been an easy year for me.  And I know a lot of you have not had an easy year either.  There have been losses of many kinds.  And the stress!  And the depression and anxiety that seems to affect so many…  And I don’t even want to think about the things that are going on in the world or in politics.

And with all of this it just seems so dark.  Darkness around me.  Darkness fighting inside me.

I’ve had to make such a huge, hard decision to choose light this season.

And it’s been hard.  So hard.

I’ve been reading through 2 different Advent devotions.  I’ve had my happy light to combat the seasonal affective disorder.  I’ve been intentionally listening only to music that uplifts.  And I’ve been listening to a 5-minute Christmas meditation every day.  It’s a different thought every day that goes with a Bible verse.

Then there’s the decorating, which I do every year anyway, but I’m especially focusing on the joy that I get from the decorating and the wrapping of gifts.

And the baking of the cookies brings me joy.

And the continual struggle to turn my thoughts to the birth of Jesus and what that means for me, to me.

This year it’s that Jesus coming down, becoming human, being born as a baby, pitching his tent here with us again in such a way as had not been heard of before, this gives me hope.

This glimmer of light in a dark night in history.

This spark that lit a candle that started a fire that engulfed the world.

This hope.  This light.  This joy.

So that’s what I’ve been focusing on.  That’s what has been getting me through the darkness this year.

Sometimes the light, the hope, is only as big as the light produced by a single match.

Some days it’s as glorious and overwhelming as I picture the angels were when they sang the Gloria to the shepherds that night in Bethlehem.

And some days it’s as distant as the star that led the wise men across countries to find the child.

But there is light.

And there is hope.

No matter the darkness around me.

Luke 2:1-20

At that time the Roman emperor, Augustus, decreed that a census should be taken throughout the Roman Empire.  (This was the first census taken when Quirinius was governor of Syria.)  All returned to their own ancestral towns to register for this census.  And because Joseph was a descendant of King David, he had to go to Bethlehem in Judea, David’s ancient home. He traveled there from the village of Nazareth in Galilee.  He took with him Mary, to whom he was engaged, who was now expecting a child.

And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born.  She gave birth to her firstborn son. She wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them.

The Shepherds and Angels

That night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding their flocks of sheep.  Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord’s glory surrounded them. They were terrified,  but the angel reassured them. “Don’t be afraid!” he said. “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people.  The Savior—yes, the Messiah, the Lord—has been born today in Bethlehem, the city of David!  And you will recognize him by this sign: You will find a baby wrapped snugly in strips of cloth, lying in a manger.”

Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God and saying,

When the angels had returned to heaven, the shepherds said to each other, “Let’s go to Bethlehem! Let’s see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.”

They hurried to the village and found Mary and Joseph. And there was the baby, lying in the manger.  After seeing him, the shepherds told everyone what had happened and what the angel had said to them about this child.  All who heard the shepherds’ story were astonished, but Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.  The shepherds went back to their flocks, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen. It was just as the angel had told them.

And for some old school, Vivaldi memories: