Longest, darkest night

Tonight, we set our clocks back an hour. 

Autumn is reaching its end. Winter is approaching. The sun is further away from us each day and its warmth lessens. The trees are ever more rapidly shedding their vividly-coloured tapestry of leaves. The migrating birds are gone. Outside my window, our two squirrels are hoarding horse chestnuts all day long. The light is changing and colours are fading. Nature is entering into its time of rest. 

We've come to the point of the year when the nights are longest, when we have more time in darkness than in daylight. 

This year, perhaps, we are each living that longest night with a greater intensity. These are dark times in the life of each and every person. This long, seemingly endless, time of pandemic and repeated lockdowns, is not easy.

And my spirit is jangled - often. 

Tonight, as I sat in our convent chapel in the darkness, my spirit was not at peace. I cried. I told God what God knows already. In a quiet whisper, I poured out my pain: "God, I'm jangling. I'm afraid. Help me. Hold me and my fears. Be with me." And I cried some more. And sat. In the dark. 

And peace came. A brief light in the darkness. 

Even for this short reprieve, thank God. 

So, if this has been a dark day for you, talk about it with God. If this dark night mirrors the darkness you feel in your heart and spirit, tell God what God knows already.

And know this: 

All you who, like me, are jangled at times will be in my prayers too.

"The Lord hears ... he saves those crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:17-18)