This is a month that is known for darkness. Today is the Winter Solstice, the darkest and shortest day of the year. Many celebrations surround the concept of darkness and light during this twelfth and final month of our calendar year: Hannukah, Advent, Christmas, Solstice, New Year's Eve. Since the dawn of time, humankind has taken a moment during this wintry month to pause and reflect on life and death.
For me, each year that passes carries a little more sadness during this month. Both of my parents died in December, and several friends died, as well. I was born on December 22nd, and have always loved being born at such an energy-infused time of year. For beneath the frozen ground, seeds are sleeping...new life will come in the spring, and this long period of sleep is necessary for their growth. Each year that passes in this decade of my 60s brings more loss. The deaths of friends and family must, by natural law, increase as I age, until one day I, too, will pass away and become memory.
Is it morbid to focus on death at a time when most of the Christian world is focusing on birth? No, because both are intimately entwined. The Wise Men brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh - foreshadowing the death and burial of Jesus Christ. These were the precious gifts they laid at the manger in Bethlehem. And even as Jesus was born under the brilliance of a Star, Herod ordered the death of all Jewish baby boys under the age of two...just in case. Birth. Death. Entwined.
It's certainly much less dramatic for me. My mother told me long ago that I was born on the coldest day of the year. Perhaps that's why I've always loved the cold! As a child, I slept in an unheated summer porch. I remember putting my little hands on the chimney that passed from the kitchen below through my little room to the roof, feeling the warmth of it. I was never cold. In fact, since our grandmother lived with us, the house downstairs was kept uncomfortably warm. To this day I gravitate to the cooler places in our house.
Today I lost another friend. Just yesterday she was commenting on my photograph of dawn in Ontario, and hours later, she died of a heart attack - no previous warning. We must all be prepared. Who knows who will go next? In my family, the women live to be quite old. My mother was 96. Her aunt died at 104. I may well live to be well over 100.
My motto is, live each day as if it is your last, but plan as though you will live forever.
Now, as the longest night of the year is in progress, my wish for all of you, dear readers, is that you reflect upon your lives, and realize that you, too, could disappear into the night without warning. Yes, we celebrate the return of the light beginning tomorrow (my birthday), but we know deep in our hearts that the great wheel of time will continue to roll, and bring around December after December. What do we bring to the manger? Does the Star shine down upon us, too? What is it about December?
