Apparently this is one of the times of year I honor this blog. This past week I led a gathering focusing on Blue Christmas – a provided space to hold our collective and individual griefs. Below is a reading I wrote for it. I hope you find comfort in it as well.

Tonight we arrive with our grief, with our hands heavy and our hearts even more so. Though this year no doubt has held its spots of light and hope, this night we honor the hardships, the things that have brought us to our knees and nearly broken us in two. We hold what we have lost, what has been shattered, those who have been taken from us too soon. We recognize that in order to move into the joy set before us, our grief needs a space to breathe and be heard, felt and be held. We give it a nod in this way to show that it matters, pulling what we have held in solace to our center stages, shining light on it in hopes of lessening its grip on us. We reveal what we have wept for in solitude, the burdens we have carried alone, that which we struggle to even mention.

Today, we are just a few days away from the Winter Solstice, the day of the year where light once again begins its yearly efforts to push back the darkness. We are reminded that, though our days have grown darker by the hour, it cannot last forever. Nature breathes its own sigh of relief as the light reappears, little by little. In the same way, so does our hope.

Hope is not come by easily. It’s not a cliché or expectation. Many times, we are all too aware of the fragility of hope and the mirage it appears to be. Hope is not meant to taunt or toy with us, but rather to sustain us. It is hope that is the reason we are all still able to stand and have not yet been crushed. Hope bolsters our legs and steadies our hands; it straightens our backs and warms our hearts. Hope is gentle, not forceful, and is respectful of our grief.

On this night, we consider that hope is as the light in our days. We don’t need to let it all in at once. We hold the darkness of our grief, remaining open to the slivers of hope coming through our darkened windows. And while its work may not appear obvious at the time, one day we take notice of its work. Just as Christmas Day is the first day of the year where we can see with naked eyes the difference in the light of our days following the solstice, so we hold out for those days where we see our hope pulling through.  

While we search for hope and joy, that feeling of festivity this time of year, we remain gentle with the heaviness we carry with us. Maybe we give room to both, space for ourselves to breathe and be. While the world celebrates around us, we give permission to ourselves to feel whichever way we do this year. We will not judge ourselves our power through our pain. We will hold ourselves and others with grace and kindness knowing that this will not last forever, but it will be for today.

And today, we honor it.