‘Tis the season of expectation. Though all of the winter holidays are wrapped around the theme of light, they have become about hopes and expectations about what lies wrapped in present boxes. Pagans, Jews and Christians now exchange gifts as part of Solstice, Hanukkah, and Christmas. So much so that “the reason for the season-” the celebration of and return of light- has been obscured.
Now I love the trees, the greens, the lights, the candles, the hot drinks, the special foods associated with this time. As someone who is trying to have material possessions go out of my house rather than come in, I am less about the presents. For children of friends, children, grandchildren, the great nieces and nephews, presents of course. But for me, this is a season of hunkering down and in. I want time to slow and still, to rest and hibernate. I want to light the menorah each night to remember the miracle of light. I want to walk the Solstice labyrinth to be taken on an inward journey of light returning. I want to sit and watch the tree lights light the darkness quietly. To ponder the mysteries of the stars, of the miracle of birth, of the birth of hope, peace, and light.
This is a time of waiting and expectation…