Here we are again, another trip around the sun, sitting at the nadir of the year (in the Northern Hemisphere at least- nod to my Southern neighbors) where light has waned to the longest night, only to have the sun be reborn on the solstice, the Solar King to rise again with the tide of the year. That’s one of the reasons we celebrate the birth of the Messiah at the winter solstice- just in case you were curious.
Christmas Eve has always felt like the holiest day, much more than Christmas itself. The night, pregnant with possibility and hope, holding the world at bay for just a moment, is where the real joy and peace lie. I relish this time. The subtle hum of electric excitement in the children, even as they’ve gotten older and less chaotic. The anticipation of what is coming— and while we experience that temporally as presents, it’s really our spirit keying in to something so much more important than new Lego or Beats headphones.
On this night, we acknowledge that darkness triumphs only briefly, no matter how long or how dark the deep winter night. Watch the skies, track the stars, do the math (yes, math! it’s how the Magi knew!) look for the light rising on the horizon, it returns. It always returns. It grows and gathers strength, rising first and shining best.
The sun is reborn. The Son is born.