It doesn't help that on the eve of winter the days are so painfully short. The nights are relentless, and they keep coming earlier. But then the Winter Solstice arrives and although it is the official start of winter, it comes as a brief reprieve from the growing night and a hopeful signpost.
I need the solstice and all it represents: a threshold, the closing of a chapter, the start to sunlight timidly warming our cold and frostbitten souls. Winter solstice neatly coincides with our collective desire for a break in time to unlock and review the past and as we look to the light of the future.
This time around, I'm greeting the solstice with craft: using my old photographs and re-framing the past with some bright, artistic flourishes courtesy of glitter glue.
I am making the most of this unique astronomical time, perhaps not unlike the ancient peoples of Europe who gathered breathlessly around bonfires and hearths for warmth to celebrate the new thing that is just on the horizon, growing light and the end of night’s dominion, even in the midst of cold.
The end can be a beginning too, as someone once said, and the solstice is where we start from.
Prayer Spirit of the empty places, Spirit of new beginnings, here we are. In this often difficult season of cold and night, it seems the light we need might go away forever. Help us to catch our breath so we might not stumble into despair. Let the past be our guide, helping us to the future we need — just on the horizon, unlocking, opening, growing.
"The Craft of Winter Solstice" appeared in Braver/Wiser, email newsletter of courage and compassion for life as it is. This and other reflections can be found on WorshipWeb.
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