Season near the sun

There is nothing like the December sky. It causes pause, at times, and moments of reverence. The moon floats above the mountains in a deep sea of midnight blue, in stark contrast to the snow-covered Earth below. The trees are regal in their layers of frosting. The land is aglow. Shimmering. There is only dark and light, shades of gray are for other seasons. This is a time of clear distinction.

I’m moved to collect spruce boughs and bring them in the house. I tie them with twine, making a wreath, creating a circle to hold the unseen. The sight and smell of evergreen is comforting, it anchors me in place. Like a tree. There is something about this season that awakens a longing for fellowship with the forest. Wood has been a friend to man since ancient times, a source of heat and light during the long winter nights. The presence of a tree in the home, this time of year, feels right.

I put up the fake Christmas tree that we’ve used since moving to Anchorage. But then took it down and stashed it in my Subaru to haul off to the thrift store. I want real. Simple. I added the gaudy wrapping paper, left over from last year, to the give-away pile. I will wrap this year’s gifts with plain brown paper and personalize them as I see fit. It feels good to make offerings, to show genuine appreciation. We still buy gifts in memory of our son, who resides in the mysteries, and give them away to those who are struggling. The dark season is magical, but it’s no joke. There is a reason we are called to draw each other close.

The sun is the giver of life, and is uniquely received during the cold season. It’s like the world is upside down. The sky is dark while the ground is light. Perceptions are easily skewed. Many don’t know, but the Earth is closest to the sun during our dark season. This doesn’t seem so, while in winter’s hold, but the natural world reveals truth. Only in the darkness can we truly see the light.

They say that “God is near the brokenhearted.” I have experienced this to be true. It is only in the darkest seasons of life that I’ve come to know a spirit that, like the December sky, cannot be fully described. But it covered me, like a soft blanket of snow, and made me feel clean. Born again. It softened the edges of a world sharp with opinions. It drew my attention to the darkness within me, casting a reflective light on it. Evoking humility. There are no shades of gray in December. There is only dark and light. And we have both inside.

Chantelle Pence is the author of “Homestead Girl: The View From Here.”

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