A Sudden Opening of Light
by Rev. Diane Rollert
December 12, 2021
Yesterday afternoon
the sun set
hidden within a grey sky,
until a sudden bright slash of red
appeared just above the horizon,
as if distant hills had been set on fire,
or a rock had been broken open
to display a line of carnelian and garnet,
crystals of hope
in the overcast expanse
rising above.
Every morning,
every night,
the sun rises and sets.
The rest is impossible to predict.
We light candles
to express
what words only faintly echo:
the loss and grief
on these shortest days;
the joy and anticipation
in a season of song,
the ambivalence
and the struggle
when we fear
the expanding night.
We arrive nervously
into the unknown,
counting the risks
in a time of lingering pandemic,
praying that the worst
is behind us.
We dream
that we will be welcomed
with an abundance of acceptance
beyond tolerance,
each person
fully themselves,
emerging from within the grey lines
of winter sky.
We long, we hope
for rising gratitude,
for the blessing of chance encounters,
for the embrace of distant light
that comes closer with each day.
Even as the night descends
long before we are ready,
may we carry with us the sudden opening of light,
the flash of crimson across our horizons,
the facets of faith
that still glimmer with promise.
Here in this thin sliver of light,
in these brief moments of companionship,
may we be remembered,
may we be welcome,
may we find home.