St. Lucy's Day

St. Lucy’s Day - Dec. 13^th

Our lives are not perfect. In fact, they often contain heartache and sorrow. And, of course, our individual problems pale in comparison to the suffering of the world itself. It’s hard to figure out how an individual can make much difference in resolving war and political conflict.

But, this is the one life we get to live, and the one time we get to live it in, and there is always room for hope. Last year, in the very dark of winter, I joined my daughter, son-in-law, and their family as they celebrated an old Scandinavian tradition, St. Lucy’s Day.

We were awakened in the pre-dawn darkness by the youngest among us, my nine year old granddaughter, dressed in a long white dress with a red sash, with a wreath of lighted tapers on her head. The house was lighted only by candlelight and the faint glow from the snow outside. The fireplace provided a soft warmth. She led us to a table set with fine china, crystal, silver, and cloth napkins.

She and her mother had prepared a hot breakfast for us: eggs, ham, orange juice, grapes, fresh-baked sweet rolls, hot chocolate. We ate slowly, savoring each morsel, soft instrumental music playing in the background. The dawn slowly crept all around the house, gently lighting the world.

This moment was, I think, a perfect metaphor for how one faces the challenges of life. There truly is darkness all around, but in gathering around a family table, eating together in soft candlelight, hope creeps in, just like the snow-filled light of dawn.

Isaiah said that the people who walk in darkness have seen a great light. That phrase has always given me chills. A child is born to us, a son is given us . . . and he will be called the Prince of Peace.

It’s up to us to set the table for him and warm his world with hot cocoa and love.