It’s 2:55 p.m. as I write this, and as I look out my office window the sun is nowhere to be found. It’s not just that it’s eclipsed by a blanket of grey clouds (which it currently is), but it seems that it hasn’t been coming around much at all lately. The sun is scheduled to set at 4:42 p.m. today, but for the last few weeks it’s felt like it rarely even rises at all.
It’s just a symptom of living in the northern hemisphere, of course. It’s darker for longer this time of year, and it seems like the speed of quickening darkness has been exacerbated by the recent time change.
I remember my wife Rebecca’s first winter here in Canada. We were living in the basement of my parent’s house. Deep into December when coloured lights draped on homes and carols rang on public speakers, when everything was supposed to be merry and bright if you will, Rebecca was feeling awfully sad. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why in the midst of a joyous season it was hard to feel glad, and it required the help of our naturopath to suggest that the winter season in the northern hemisphere was affecting the mood of this Southern Belle. She grew up in South Carolina, which never lacks in sunshine, and the shorter days in the basement were proving to be a bit of a shock to her system.
I learned that it’s not always just a deficiency of vitamin D that causes us to feel seasonally depressed, it can be more broadly caused by a lack of exposure to light in general — we just spend too much time in the dark.
I don’t know the entirety of what this year held for you, but I do know that we share the same cultural context and are living through the same moment in time and space.
We’re feeling pressed on all sides and it’s harder to catch our breath. The darkness consistently creeps in, stepping on our toes and stifling our hopes.
Unprecedented times as they say, and we wonder why we’re the ones who have to live through this at all.
Not very merry, hardly bright.
But here’s the thing, friends — fighting seasonal sadness requires intentional movement towards the light. Supplementing with vitamin D, flying to South Carolina to see the beach in our midwinter, going for winter walks outside instead of on the treadmill in the basement or at the gym.
I’m convinced that the same thing is required of us in the midst of proverbial darkness.
In order to not succumb to the darkness and squander our hope, we must make intentional movements towards the light.
I see light in our advent candle that we light every day of December. The feeble flame, flickering on the wick and casting shadows that dance on the walls.
I see light in our son Asher’s eyes when finds the moon in the sky at night. “Moon!” he yells, as if he’s seeing it for the very first time.
I see light in the scurrying birds that migrate to our backyard this time of year. The dark-eyed juncos forage in our sleeping garden, eating the remains of this year’s crop and aiding the soil for next year’s planting.
I see light in the five stockings that are hanging on our piano — specifically the two extra that represent Rebecca’s sisters, who are coming to Canada for Christmas.
I see light on my winter walks through the forest. Even as the sun sets a little early, the delight of dusk still drapes the forest floor with a glow that can only be held this time of year.
I’m seeing light in every crack, corner, and crevice because I need to, and I expect the same is true for you.
So this year, my blessing and my prayer for you is that you find the light, and you let it illuminate your darkness.
Make your intentional movements towards it, and may it enlighten your way like the flame of a candle or the reflection of the moon.
And when it feels so dark that you can only move by feeling your way along, remember that the world will soon tilt towards the light, and the sun will shine again.
I leave you with this, a quote from the Lord of the Rings:
“I do not know what is happening. The reason of my waking mind tells me that great evil has befallen and we stand at the end of days. But my heart says nay; and all my limbs are light, and a hope and joy are come to me that no reason can deny. I do not believe that darkness will endure!” —J.R.R. Tolkien
