Christmas is just two days away, and honestly, I'm feeling pretty good. It's cold here, but no snow. It feels very appropriate for the season. I've gotten some gifts in the mail and underneath my mature, adult exterior lies a skinny little seven-year-old in a Christmas teddy bear sweater who can barely resist the temptation to open them. So far, the adult part has kept things under control.
Last December and January were especially hard for me. While I was grateful the for time I spent with my family and friends, as well as the giving and receiving of everything from cookies to much-appreciated crazy scarves, I went through quite a bit of heartache. My loved ones were supportive, but I hated feeling like a burden or that one whiny Scrooge sneering in the corner. I went through the motions best I could, fooling nobody but still managing to somewhat get into the holiday spirit.
Right before Christmas that year, my mother and I were browsing an Amvets thrift store in Knoxville. The speakers in the store were turned to a local radio station that was playing very festive music. They played several holiday songs I liked and a few I had never heard. One of these was Wintersong by Sarah McLachlin. One part in particular stuck in my head:
It's late and morning's in no hurry,
But sleep won't set me free.
When silence gets to hard to handle,
And the night too long.
It's such a somber, warm yet devastatingly poignant song. That's honestly what things felt like: a long, dark night of the soul, if you will. Fast forward a year later and it's dawn now. While the sun hasn't chased out every bit of the darkness, I am very thankful for the sunshine I do have in my life. I love my current home and I love my family and my friends. I love God and I love Christmas again. That being said, Merry Christmas and I apologize for the generous use of metaphors.
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