The longest night

 

Winter solstice.  The longest night. 

Just before Christmas. 

Night is darkest just before dawn.

Today was emotionally heavy in tiny ways. 

I passed out teacher gifts and school party snacks on the last day of school.  But the back of my mind wondered -- should I have done more?

I wrote up the details for the message I'm going to share at Christmas eve worship. Will it be good enough? Could anything be good enough?

I had hurried to finish Christmas preparation so I could be calm and low stress in the days leading up to the holiday but I worry over and over I'm going to forget something.

A friend came up to me to say she needed to check herself into the hospital to help with mental health. 

I remembered I'm not going home this Christmas. 

I texted with a stranger, a woman from a Facebook group in part of.  Her child is lonely and wanted some kids to hang out with so we arranged a playdate.  But my mind wheeled with questions - will she judge my house? My kids? 

Zander, who had bounced back from surgery,  took a step back and started clinging to me because he didn't feel good. I expected it,  but it still added to this long dark day.  

I took my medicine. It made me tired. 

I watched home alone 6 with the kids. You guys,  there's a home alone 6. It's a little out of control. 

A friend texted that her dog,  who is her full and complete baby,  ate something poisonous and she will be on vigil this long night.

Everything in me longs for the break after Christmas.  The wintering time where we can pull back and hide in caves. Being slow and intentional this year means I'm not crazy right now and I realize that being crazy and busy fills my mind and keeps me from holding all these longest night thoughts in my head. 

But... in my intention..  I'm calmly laying next to the Christmas tree,  writing this melancholy post a few days before Christmas. I feel small against the big need of this world. I do every year at Christmas. I give all the gifts, bake al the baked goods, show up for al the things and still I feel like it's not enough.  I'm not enough and somehow I should have found a way to do more.

In nights so dark, our small lights feel like they are swallowed by the vastness of the night. But in this darkness, the light of the world is born. 

But more than that,  before there was light,  God was.  God dwelled in the darkness. And in the darkness of this night,  God dwells with us. We do not need to wait for the light. God is with us,  even now.