In a notebook somewhere I recorded that Dale promised to write our holiday Christmas letter this year. We were driving down the interstate, in the wide expanse between Kansas and Canada, and remarking on our vagabond ways. Under the general theme of “staying in touch,” I reminded him that last year we had just let the whole Christmas card or letter thing slide and how unfortunate that was. Since HE carries the blame/responsibility for our peripatetic voyages of the past few years, I figured it was his job to report to our family and friends how we’ve fared and where we’ve landed and how it’s all working out for us. He agreed. And a lot of good THAT did me. It’s December 22 and still no letter. I suppose he has three days left.
Other than missing my friends dearly and wondering WHERE IN THE HELL IS THE SNOW????, I find no reason to complain. Canada is treating me well. I don’t have to listen to daily news of Brownback’s perfidy. There are ice skating rinks popping up all over the place. I have a job that is fulfilling and sends me to work every day with good people. I have my health and, as Count Rugen reminds us, if you don’t have your health, you don’t have anything.
This is the dark time of year. Today is the first day of winter and, officially, the solstice as well (though it was yesterday according to calendar makers). In these northern climes, the lack of sunlight couples with grey, overcast skies to remind me of why our earliest ancestors lit candles and hung lights during December. We all need the spark of light to remind us of the joy in the world, the spark in our hearts, the promise of renewal and hope. I am not immune to the glumness that attaches itself to so many of my fellow creatures during the Advent season but I am wrestling it to the ground and plying it with egg nog and calling that an attitude adjustment.
May your days be merry and bright. Happy Solstice. Let the light shine.