The light of winter, at least as I behold it, is different than that of any other time of year.
Not quite as after-the-rain, rainbow-clad fresh as spring light.
Nor as earth-warmingly, blindingly brilliant as summer light.
Or (though muter than summer, still) radiant as autumn light.
Winter light is different for me…
And perhaps truer, for it matches my soul-mood, harmonizes with my heart-spirit, which, at this time of year, internally – still and silent, thus, secreted away from most, save those who know me best – is gray, dim, dark.
This, for me (to date, my life long), is so. Thus, this time of year, I long for Christmas.
However the date was chosen – whether to Christianize Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, that ancient Roman festival honoring the birth of the unconquered sun or to align the nativity of Jesus nine months after the March 25 celebration of the angel Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary that she would bear a son or for some other reason(s) – I long for December 25.
The idea alone – whether historically factual, nonetheless true, for the idea, once conceived, lives – that the Creator of all that was, is, and ever will be was, is Emmanuel, God with us; inhabiting human flesh, entering the physical realm of time and space, embracing and thus ennobling all who have lived, do and will live life in this world…
enlightens my gray-hued mind with luminescent hope,
inspires my dim heart with incandescent faith,
illumines my shadow-darkened soul and spirit with inextinguishable, inexhaustible love.
By this hope, faith, and love, I know Emmanuel is no mere, however marvelous, idea, but a living, life-breathing-and-bearing, life-sanctifying-and-sustaining reality whose name is Jesus. So it is that, regardless of the season or time of year, irrespective of my mood or state of soul, I, with the angels, sing: Gloria in excelsis Deo!