“Don’t give up on truth and beauty and justice, no matter the headlines, no matter how dire things seem. The light always returns—always always always.”– Anne Lamott
It is the Feast of the Epiphany for those of you that follow these things. The day the church celebrates wise men arriving with gifts for Jesus. We have been attending the Presbyterian Church. It’s a community church, and I like hearing babies crying and Passing the Peace ( when we all shake hands and smile and wish each other the Peace of God) with some people that I haven’t always had a peaceful relationship with. I think that’s more important than ever these days.
It’s 10:15, which is very late (for me, I’m an early riser. My second cup of coffee was at six today.) We just returned from the Arts Council’s annual Northern Lights Showcase featuring eight local performers, from a high school basketball player singing and playing Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” and a tour guide’s very funny essay about tourists, to a young composer digitally “looping” three or maybe it was four, instrument tracks and a local girl in her early thirties who sings like Pasty Cline.
The world is a dark place. You don’t need to live close to the Arctic Circle to know that, but there is so much light.
In the children’s sermon, Jim compared God to the sun, then he showed all the little kids an assortment of flashlights and battery operated lights, and even a candle, to illustrate the smaller, but just as important lights we all have. Chip leaned over and whispered, “Think he’ll mention broken ones?” On cue Jim pulled out a flashlight that didn’t work. The battery was dead. Sometimes, our lights go out he said. That’s when it’s nice to have someone to help you light them again.
Here, we keep track of the daylight we lose and gain with the seasons. It’s part of the radio weather report. Now that we have passed solstice, the light is returning, even though it’s the heart of winter ( 19 degrees and snowing again) there were two more minutes of daylight again today than yesterday. By February we will gain three, then four– and gallop off toward spring.
But right now I’m thinking about those little kids and the flashlights, and the show tonight and all those very bright lights, and the story of the kings, a favorite, and my mother, who put the same nativity set out every year that I now do. She taught me to follow my stars. The light always returns because it is always there. If I were a wiser woman I could tell you why, but maybe knowing that is enough.
