What
a funny paradox we live in now—the dark of the year is upon us, and
yet the hustle and bustle has multiplied. While all of nature in our
northern world is resting and quiet, human beings are adding more
activity and stress to our lives. (And our lives often are already
holding a lot of stress.) So I wanted to tell you to make some time
for quiet, for the dark, for rest and stillness. But then I thought
it might risk adding a layer of guilt to the whole mess. You might
be thinking, “How can I find time for that, on top of everything
else I have to do?”
So
I won't tell you the make time for quiet. But, perhaps, you might
notice the moments of quiet that accidentally cross your path.
Notice the bright stars in a dark sky as you get out of your car
coming home in the evening. Notice the quiet of snow over the fields
on the side of the road. (Yes, snow might be coming sooner than we
think.) Notice the children tucked snug in their beds. Notice the
orange sunrise as you step outside for the morning paper. Notice any
moment of stillness, pause, and take a breath right then and there.
It's a holy moment.
Of
course, there are some times in all of our lives when we, like nature
in winter, feel dormant, feel like we've lost our pizzazz or
creativity or energy. If you are facing such a time, rest within
it—don't look at what everyone else is doing and think you're
missing out. Explore the gifts within the shadows. Explore the
stillness and the darkness. Nature teaches us that without dormancy,
many plants can't grow at all. Human creativity is like that too.
The dormancy is the gift that hides a gift. It is a holy season.
