From Hart to Hearts
A Message from Rev Linda Hart for the month of December 2008
I find that most days when I’m on my way into the manse, I avert my eyes from the front garden. It has been sadly abandoned these past few months, and while the weeds flourish even in the cold, the flowers and intentional greenery are turning black and slimy as frost and winter begin to truly take hold. It is yet one more reminder of the approach of the solstice and the darkest time of the year. And though I don’t loathe these darker days, I do feel some sadness when I see how early the dark descends in the afternoon, and long for strong morning sunshine when I arise. Like many animals, I want to nestle into my home, draw a warm blanket around me, and settle in for the long winter. I find myself drawing inward. Perhaps you do too at this time of year.
Considering all of this, imagine my surprise when I looked just to the right of the door and discovered that a misguided iris had decided to send up a stalk of flowers. Iris buds. In my garden. In mid-November.
It must have gotten confused by the several patches of mild weather we had over the preceding few weeks, and thought that spring must have already arrived in this part of the world. You can hardly blame it for its confusion. The weather hasn’t been nearly as seasonal as we expect it to be. Summer was more like autumn, autumn was rather summer-ish. Of course, now winter is being more wintery than I had anticipated, the cold seeping through every crack, damp and chill air in the mornings and all the rest. But it is a good thing, I suppose.
Still the iris is there, tenacious in face of the cold and bits of snow that accumulated around its base. There is no sign of bloom. The buds remain as tightly wound as when I first noticed it two weeks ago.
They give me hope, those buds.
It's a time when there's lots of bad news all around. The terror in the Congo goes on without end, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan also seemingly without an end in sight, and recession looming ever larger. Combine that with the wintery inclination to huddle in our houses, the mood changes that the darker time of year often bring, and life can seem rather sad if not frightening.
Then there are the iris buds, trying to bloom, reminding me – and you, I hope – of the persistence of life, the unlikeliness of blossoming in any weather, the gift of newness and rebirth.
There is promise even in the darkest of times the old stories tell us. Oil that burns for a week though there couldn't be enough. A child born in the humblest surroundings who will bring light to the world. A solstice bonfire lit to call to the sun to return to us, as we dance and sing and celebrate with sureness the light growing stronger as the days pass. And, this year, tight buds of a confused iris there to bless us with its promise even in the coldest of days.
As we come into this holiday season, I wish for you all some token of hope and promise to light your way through this dark time of year. It might be the news from a friend at a great distance, or an opportunity to see anew the love that surrounds you always. Perhaps your token will be some gentle lights that burn deep into the night, or the pleasure of watching the dawn as it comes earlier in the week after solstice. Light a candle, if you need. Sit in silence as you can. And open yourself to the gifts that are there that need no tree nor wrapping to bless you. They abound.
With my love, and best wishes for a happy holiday season,
Linda