Here comes the Son

This year has seemed like the never-ending winter.  Each week there’s been a glimmer of hope, of sunshine peaking the horizon momentarily only to be greyed out and colored over by a cloud or a snowstorm or a week of rain.  And when there is a never-ending winter, I’ve noticed that my spirits dip, as well.  Missing the sun makes me cranky and irritable and extra snappy at people I care about, if I’m not extra-careful.  Missing the sun means that I’m more liable to leave papers and books strewn all over the house and the dishes undone and the laundry piling for an eternity.  Missing the sun means that I need a little extra self-persuasion to lift myself out of bed, sometimes, to start the day.
For me, though, I know I’m missing the sun on my shoulders.  It hasn’t become debilitating.  I can still usually self-persuade (or Thomas & Erik help) to check my mood and my reactions and my ability to be productive.  For some, though, the privilege of movement seems even more distant at this time of year.  For some, the prayers are just to *feel* at all, to overcome lethargy and eternal sadness.  For some, the winter compounds a way of living that seems, at times insurmountable, and the weight of being a human in the world without the rays of sunshine is crushing.
And while reaching towards the Son isn’t the entire answer for those that are sad, it can be a small part of it.  The truth that the Son will rise into the world again and prove to us, once again, that through this darkness, there is a glimmer of hope.  Summer is coming.  Hope is present.  The Resurrection is real.  And while it doesn’t answer all of our problems, it certainly can provide a measure of comfort in these dark rainy days.
Let’s pray:
Son, rest upon my shoulders.  Hold me together while I weep. Light up my world.  Son, show me the hope for summer and rest and a moment that is lighter than this one.  Son, be beside me to lighten my mood and inspire my happiness.  Remind me that there is new life.   Amen.

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