I love winter.  Particularly here in Alaska.  I love how the daylight comes and goes with a distinctive blue tone, and how mornings take a long time to arrive and evening light begins in early afternoon, with darkness taking over shortly thereafter.  As the rain turns to snow more frequently, the earth is signaling that it is time to rest, to recuperate from the busyness of new growth in spring, productivity in summer, and preparation in fall.  It is time to slow down and settle in for a time of stillness and quiet as the natural world becomes dormant. 

There’s something calming about these shortened days and frosty air that makes me want to curl up under a blanket with a steaming cup of tea to read, or write.  It’s no wonder that many of the plants and animals hibernate through it.  Winter can be as harsh and bitter as it is beautiful.  I imagine those animals, like squirrels, and foxes, and rabbits, that may not sleep through the winter, but have made themselves cozy dens to wait out the harshest conditions.  I too, will often observe the snow blowing horizontally out the window and decide today is best spent inside, with the warmth and protection of the walls and roof sheltering me.  As the snow falls steadily outside, I am grateful for my own version of a den, a comfortable chair to recline in, and a homemade eggnog latte nearby to warm my insides.  Sometimes the simplest things can be recognized as the luxuries they truly are.

I never imagined that despite these peaceful, contemplative moments, this year would turn out to have been the hardest year of my life.  I thought 2021 offered enough challenges, but 2022 exceeded it in countless ways.  More anxiety, more pain, more overwhelming moments.  But it also created more opportunities for growth, more blessings, and more healing than I thought possible in my circumstances.  I am in a celebratory mood because I am still here to experience and be challenged by whatever life throws at me, and to embrace triumphs with jubilation.

As Christmas approaches, I revel in all the aspects of the season that bring joy.  I look forward to celebrating the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ, and the humble beginnings of a life that changed the world forever.  But I also find enjoyment in all of the more modern accoutrements of the season, the Christmas tree, the lights, the special foods, the unique traditions passed down through generations, and time spent connecting with friends and family.  But Christmas, along with the totality of the holiday season, is fraught with distractors from its true meaning.  The extreme commercialization of the season transforms a time that we hope will be focused on gratitude and love for one another into an intense, nonstop marketing and sales opportunity.  We buy, buy, buy, hoping to squeeze the last bargain from the holiday sales, only to find the hunt more satisfying than the capture.  Some people even jeopardize tenuous financial stability in their efforts to have the “perfect” Christmas, as though just the right gift, just the right outfit, or decorations might change the trajectory of their lives.  Such means of commemoration may end up feeling hollow at the end of the season, with only a pile of bills and regrets to show for our misplaced exuberance.

While I’ve been known to frequently enjoy the simplicity and lightness of the numerous Christmas-themed movies available this time of year while cooking, baking, or doing other household tasks, the messages tend toward the shallow end of the pool, conveying little or none of the real meaning behind the Christian holiday, and the birth for which the holiday is named.  These movies are often ridiculously cheerful and over the top in their representation of holiday festivities, from their endless decoration of any fixed object to the harmonious and idyllic communities and relationships between characters.  And yet we know this is far from a realistic representation of the world we live in.  I particularly appreciate the pre-Christmas recognition of the “Longest Night” or “Blue Christmas” in services offered by many churches.  It honors the reality that for many people, this time of year is difficult.  Whether it is spending a first holiday season without a family member or friend, or dealing with unexpected challenges, such as loss of a job, or a home, or one’s health.  There are many reasons why a person might not feel in a particularly festive mood.  The world is full of sadness and strife alongside the joy of remembering Christ’s birth and the holiday season.  But there are many among us that do not subscribe to belief in the miracle of Christ, of salvation, or of a Holy Spirit beyond ourselves and our earthly existence.  Though not all have a faith to lift them up through the dark hours and days, we can still pray that they may find comfort in the midst of their afflictions, no strings attached.

This year, Marty and I will be doing something completely different for Christmas, and I must admit that despite the exotic and unusual nature of our plan, I will miss some of the traditions that mark a “proper” observance of Christmas for me.  We will spend Christmas on a remote island in the far north Pacific, about a thousand miles from nowhere, as the Dwight Yoakum song says.  We will spend all but two of our 45 days counting Laysan Albatross as they arrive from nearly a year at sea to nest and hatch their young on the small atoll laden with both avian and human history.  Although there will be some specific Christmas activities on one of our two days off, it will be up to us to ensure that we focus on the meaning of the day, and remember who put the Christ in Christmas.  I’ve prepared by downloading resources, a daily Advent devotional, a Jacquie Lawson Advent calendar, seasonal music, and yes, some of those lighthearted, low-drag Christmas flicks.  Even without all of the traditional elements of my favorite kind of Christmas, I intend to focus on the reason for the season, the event of the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ. 

This abridgement of the usual exuberant holiday fanfare seems apropos given a year that pared down my expectations for life in such a base manner.  The celebration should be simplified to put all of the focus on the gift of Jesus to the world.  I hope Marty and I will sit on the beach on Christmas night, gazing at a heaven full of stars whose brightness is not diminished by the light pollution of a modern world.  If we are lucky, we may be joined by a few endangered monk seals that have hauled out to rest.  As we marvel at those stars, we will think of you, and imagine you looking at the same sky full of stars and hope and promise, even though we are thousands of miles apart.  We wish you peace in each and every day, and a joyous holiday season, wherever in the world you may be.

Merry Christmas!