Seeking Light

While I could probably quote “Christmas Vacation” line-for-line if I were ever called upon to do so (and I hope one day I will be), my favorite exchange is Clark’s father-in-law looking at his holiday light display in disgust and commenting, “The little lights aren’t twinkling, Clark.” To which Clark tactfully replies, “I know, Art. And thanks for noticing.”

The kids and I haphazardly threw our decorations up around Nov. 1; obscenely early, yes, but as the days quickly grow shorter and the nights grow longer, I’ve always found comfort in having the lights of the Christmas trees to brighten the corners of our home. Over the years, however, the lights on our pre-lit trees have burned out, as well as the puny strings of lights I’ve purchased to replace them. As a result, the holiday cheer inside our home has grown a bit dimmer each year. While I’m too scared to go up on the roof to hang lights, I had always strung up a few on the evergreens that lined our front porch. This year the evergreens died and had to be removed, so no “exterior illumination,” either. In short, to say our holiday lights are a bit underwhelming would be an understatement. Clark Griswold would be disappointed. Frankly, I think even Cousin Eddie would be embarrassed to crash here.

I could go buy replacement lights for the trees. I could hire someone to come decorate my roof. But the truth is, my little lights have felt a bit dimmer each year since Jeff died. Particularly at the holidays.

Though I’m by no means a worldly person—save for a few trips to EPCOT—I do know that there are more similarities than differences in most of the world’s major religions, and one of the greatest common denominators is the celebration of light. At Christmas, we light a candle each week of Advent in anticipation of the celebration of Christ’s birth, and we remind children that it was a bright star that helped the wisemen find their way. Hanukkah celebrates the miracle of candles that continued to burn for eight nights, with only a day’s supply of oil. Diwali celebrates the victory of light over darkness. And for my friends who observe Festivus (you know who you are), isn’t the airing of grievances really a process of shedding light on the truth?

While there is universal comfort in seeking light, for many of us, the holidays can become a reminder that with obstacles, challenges and loss, the light seems to have grown dim. But this morning, as I sat in the living room braiding my youngest daughter’s hair for school, something on the wall caught my eye: the shadow of a perfectly shaped star, cast by the morning sunrise filtering through our blinds and hitting a cheap, unlit decoration perched on top of my mostly unlit tree. As I glanced up at that perfect silhouette cast by the morning sunrise, I was reminded that though obstacles may obscure those rays of light—those rays of love, joy, peace, hope, faith and compassion—the impact of those rays remains.

For those struggling with anxiety, shadows are a reminder that even when there seems to be more darkness than light, the light is never really gone, and it will fill our lives once again.

For those feeling overwhelmed by the turmoil our nation faces, shadows are a reminder that no one individual can obscure the truth, and ultimately, light always casts out fear, ignorance and hatred.

And for those of us missing a loved one at the holidays, shadows are a reminder that though their light appears to have flickered out, the profound impact they had on our lives continues to burn in the fire of our souls.

So this holiday season and in the coming year, I wish you the warmth and comfort that come from a life filled with light and hope. May the fire in our souls continue to burn bright, may the sunlight continue to shine on what’s good and true, may no obstacle loom so large as to prevent us from leaving our mark and may our little lights always, always be twinkling.

Kathy Deters