2 Candles

This year I placed both of my electric candles in the kitchen window, plugged them in, and decided to leave them on 24/7. Something about this year's Christmas season seems to call for something beyond our normal activities. I sense it everywhere I go. I find it difficult to believe that I am the only one who seeks more from this year. Perhaps all of us are tired of the economic falderal and the downsizing of life. Maybe this year we crave not the shopping and the glare of harsh neon, but the true down to earth basics of love and goodwill.

Oh, I have heard stories of bad behavior among shoppers. But what I see more of this year than in previous years is that desire to reconnect with people who are part of your sphere. To spend time with family and friends, to "do" the traditional actions of decorating a tree and hanging lights not because you have to, but because you want to spend time with people doing something memorable. Even Rahway Street, the icon of miniature golf course decor, has engaged more homes in the display of lights this year - and with less of that commercial 'my lights are bigger than your lights' attitude.

We want to go back to the good old days when life was enjoyable and one could actually retire in peace and the children all came for the day to see the grandparents. We want to move past the uncertainty of the times, beyond the bad job market and the instability of an unpredictable future. And the only way we know of to accomplish that is to hang more lights. Blot out the darkness.

Let the soft glow of colored lights bring us some small measure of vision in the dark times. Let the consolation of connection with loved ones (and yes, even the not so loved ones) assuage our fear of finding ourselves left out in the dark while the rest of the world is inside celebrating. Let the love of Christ pour over us now in the same powerful way that it did so many years ago in a little town, in a stable, in a manger.

Yes, I shall leave my 2 lighted candles on for the duration. Every time I come home, they cheer me up. Every time I leave home, they give me strength to face whatever I am doing. In the middle of the night when I wake, the soft glow of the candles comforts my heart and dispels any disturbing dreams. May the lights at your house do so too.

Winter Fog

Swaddled. Isn't that a peculiar word? Sort of a combination of cuddled and swathed. The Oxford English Dictionary defines the verb "to swaddle" as "To wrap round with bandages; to envelop with wrappings; to swathe, bandage." Mostly the reference people know is about Jesus in the manger being wrapped in swaddling clothes, but the more common usage is to swaddle a corpse with linen cloths. How apropos. It is also used to describe dressing a wound. Hum.

All that to say that the world this morning is swaddled in fog. The air is fuzzy and out of focus. It's enough to give you a headache. Sometimes it is a comfort to be enclosed and covered with the soft white mist. Other times it feels very restrictive. One wants to know what is coming! I suppose for a baby fresh from the confines of the womb, it is comforting to feel the closeness of swaddling cloths. Helps them know the boundaries and that they are not adrift in a huge unknown.

It doesn't take long before you want to be able to move your arms and legs, before you long to bust out of the confines of the swaddling clothes the better to explore the wide and wonderful world. Maybe that's where it hits for the corpse. Longing to slip the confines of this earth for wider spaces. Wanting the fog of this world to be lifted to reveal the eternal. To explore the wide and wonderful beyond.

At any rate, Sugar and I both agree that we want to get back inside out of the damp swirling fog. Neither of us expected such weather in late November. Winter is certainly acting oddly this year.

Back to Work

Monday. After a holiday and a break. I expect it will be busy, but the parking lot is half empty. Perhaps students have delayed returning, unwilling to give up their relaxation time - or not eager to jump back into assignments and paperwriting. Several staff are still out, some not feeling well, others not back yet.

I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but the morning is quiet. I get a few questions at the reference desk, nothing earth shattering. I catch up with email, always a task needing attention.

I change the liturgical decor in my office since I was not there the Wednesday before Thanksgiving when we normally make that change. I like my tapestry of the annunciation and my nativity snow globe. Next week I will move to the actual nativity tapestry too, but I don't want to miss the importance of Mary's acquiescence even though that was some nine months ago.

And so the day unwinds, slowly and lethargically like honey that refuses to come out of the bottle. I kind of like easing back into things gently. A nice relief from the usual jolt.