Waiting. . . A Christmas Missive
Today we began the ascent into slivers of more daylight. Last night, we welcomed winter in Virginia, the arrival of the Winter Solstice, the Norse night of Yule.
Awakening after the longest night of the year, the sky beyond my bedroom window was stria. As if to signal the return of longer days, this sunrise was a summer seersucker of pink, parallel lines of pink and white with a brightness bringing forth the promise of the sun, born again to restore, and to ride her seasonal path.
It is a measured path and the daughter of the sun goddess takes her time. For a winter sky is filled with waiting. Waiting for snow, waiting for a sleigh of toys, waiting for a star to light our way. In the stillness of a winter's night we wait. We wait for the rebirth of a child to fill our hearts with the light of love. Beyond the tinsel and the trimmings, the herald of a new year, the epiphany to come, we wait. We wait for the return of spring, for happy growing things, and for winged dreams to carry us with them into sunlight and warmth. We long for the light, but it is in the darkness of a winter's night, in the waiting, that hidden talents and treasures are stoked, fueled by warm mugs of tea or cocoa. It is the rest all of life needs, in the huddled hibernation of a home or the deep soil of the soul, in order to do the miraculous work of stretching, of flowering and unfolding to bring forth new promise.
And each day lengthens, spreading out that pink sky, until I, too, uncoil like a seedling and become who I am meant to be. Until I ride with you again, and we fly with the sky, astride our bikes, me wearing a pink seersucker dress, happy face to the sun.
I will see you in the spring. Be patient, while you wait. . .
Merry Christmas!
XO Anne Poarch • Founder • Basket & Bike