Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.”
~Mary Oliver.

I am an early riser. I like getting up in the wee hours of the morning and having the house lie in stillness around me.I have a little routine that I have established in this moving and I am happy with it. Each season of the year holds particular early mornings gifts….in spring it is the morning songs of birds returning…in summer it is the sweet smell of flowers and cut grass…in the fall it is the goodbye call of geese heading to their winter getaway.
But in winter, in December, the gift of early morning is darkness. There is a certain contemplative spirit that lurks in the corners of every room, inviting reflection and calm. It begs you to sit with it, to notice its offerings.There is the promise of the light that will arrive in its own good time. Eventually there is the arrival of the sun on the horizon. Often it brings a palette of color that stuns the senses…lavender, baby pink, orange and yellow. To have waited in the darkness for all this splendor is pure gift.

Last night I attended a concert with two amazing singer/songwriters: Barbara McAfee and Claudia Schmidt. The theme of their concert was ‘Hark the Dark!” they wove together poetry and songs of darkness…its beauty and its terror. And also, with these two wily women, its humor. What both performer and audience held in common was a healthy respect for the gifts of darkness.

As we make our way to the Winter Solstice in a few days, I am struck with this love/ hate, push/pull relationship we humans have with darkness. I am also more keenly aware of the way in which honoring the Solstice connects us with all those who have walked before us. I think particularly of the Celtic blood which flows through my veins and my ancestors who rightfully celebrated the return of the light in the late days of December darkness as it began to shine on their green and rocky soil once again. I think about how my ancestors who took up the Christian faith settled on celebrating the birth of Jesus, our Way-Shower, near the date of this return of light to the earth. Why not? Light is light.

I think of all the times I have heard people describe how they have come through difficult times…dark times…to see the gift in it. Over and over I have heard people talk about how without this seemingly dark time, they would never have learned, known, discovered, realized, accomplished…whatever. Someone or something had handed them a box full of darkness and they had eventually seen that it was gift, too.

Somehow for me, this movement through Advent, this moving toward the Solstice, this walking the path on the way to Christmas is all tied up like a box full of darkness. I am waiting in expectation to see what the gift will really be. I am hoping to be surprised.

Won’t you join me?