The Light Will Always Come

I stand at my kitchen window, these dark December mornings, and I'm astonished by the sunrises of winter. 

Blackness - complete blackness - imperceptibly gives way to black silhouettes against pink, orange, purple.  The entire world is reduced to two dimensions - all is either dark or light.

Watching the light arrive, in my quiet kitchen before anyone has stirred, memories surface: watching suns rise after all-nighters in college, after pacing the floors with wailing newborns.



It is a benediction, every morning:  the end of darkness, the return of the light.  A benediction that promises us daily that no matter how dark, no matter how long the night has been, the sun returns to shine on every living thing - returns to vanquish every last shadow. To make us fully three-dimensional.

At the winter's solstice, where we welcome the gradual (maybe painfully slow, some days) return of the sun to our lives, we can receive that benediction every single morning:  the Light will always return.

With that, I will leave you with a beautiful quote from Gunilla Norris: 

In our lives, we sometimes find ourselves in what feels like our darkest days - days of trouble and loss when our spirits are overwhelmed.  It's important then to remember that our inner light is still there though we may not be able to feel it. Given time, our spirits will lighten bit by bit the way more daylight comes back bit by bit with each day.