I’m not sure when I first became aware of the darkness of winter. Over the years, I have become increasingly sensitive to the shorter days. It is unsettling that I leave for work in the dark and return home in the dark. During the day, I look out my office window wondering, “How dark is it outside?” At what point did I start obsessing about the darkness of winter?
Given this fixation, the winter solstice brings me great joy knowing that the darkest day is once again behind me with six months of lengthening sunshine ahead. It makes so much sense that people have celebrated winter solstice for hundreds and hundreds of years; I count myself among this tribe.
I find great comfort in the faithful rhythms of creation. Annual patterns like the lengthening and shortening of days, the predictable coming and going of seasons, and repeating animal migrations show that our God is orderly, and therefore, a caring God. Expected monthly patterns such as the moon phases and daily rhythms like tides and the earth’s rotation comfort me: I can rest in the fact that God creates and sustains a structured world. For me, these rhythms speak of God’s love for his people and all of creation. And, for me.
Barbara Brown Taylor writes one of my very favorite lines in An Altar in the World: “Earth is so thick with divine possibility that is a wonder we can walk anywhere without cracking our shins on altars.”
The patterns of creation are deeply divine. God’s love permeates throughout, and my shin cracks again and again … even in the darkness of winter.
