The week between Christmas and New Year’s Day is a time space I have always loved. I know that isn’t the case for everyone, it can be stressful-a let down-a struggle, but I anticipate it almost as much as Christmas itself. Christmas feels like a culmination of the entire year, whether it’s been a good one or a bad one, a visceral reminder of light that shimmers just out of sight. In our house, we put lights on everything-our Christmas tree, a cupboard, on railings, in baskets, I even have a demijohn that is filled with lights to brighten a corner that seldom gets any attention. I’m not a purist either-white lights or colorful-it doesn’t matter as long as the predawn and evening darkness comes alive, just a little, with these sparkling reminders of a different kind of light. For my heart, lights are a hospitality-a way of saying, with all the hopefulness of a six year old on Christmas eve, there is a way made here, there is room here…You, Jesus, will not be turned away.
Thank you, Susan. Your beautiful words stirred up images of my own childhood. Going to Mass, feeling enveloped and comforted by the scents, the rituals, bringing God close. Growing up in chaos, it brought beauty and hope to me.
Light looking for light, needing light. I wonder if it's the type of seeking I have always felt in my heart? There has been consolation in the verse about His eyes roaming the earth for those who seek Him. He will be found.
May you continue the beautiful work He has given you to do. You contribute so much.
Light waits for light. I should have waited to read this as my heart wants to weep. It needs to weep. Not yet. Tomorrow I can return to these words. Please don’t stop writing and sharing. You are light.