we sing and celebrate the light,
the sun’s born in the longest night!
we learned this song from our friends in st. louis at our first winter solstice celebration and continue to use it as a touchpoint for this time of year.
we're having our celebration a day late, with very good reason. steve is coming home today for a long holiday visit, one much needed by all of us to physically reconnect with each other. there will be many, many points of snuggling and hugging and holding hands and just "being" in the same space together.
we'll get our family tree and adorn it with shiny, sparkly, glittery orbs and ornaments that remind us of light and of the sun that will return after the longest night and of the things in nature we enjoy this time of year: snowflakes, pine cones, cranberries, popcorn-on-a-string.
we'll eat food that warms our bodies and makes our hearts happy, and i'm going to try something new for a drink, a hot buttered rum (without the rum so the kids can have it, so it will more closely resemble harry potter's butterbeer).
we'll turn off the lights and sing our song, faces illuminated in candlelight.
we're introducing another family to our tradition this year; the kids will surely delight in the little presents brought to them by the winter solstice fairy.
maybe some will sit tight long enough for a reading of the candleberry elf from sparklestories. i imagine i'll find diana curled up sometime today with the return of the light: twelve tales from around the world for the winter solstice by carolyn edwards.
and maybe we'll dance to one of our favorite winter songs by enya.
i want my children to know, to believe, to encompass, to embody the idea that we all can be lights in the darkness. we do not need to fear the night. our own individual brilliance can be enough to sustain us, maybe even be enough to lead the way for others to follow and find their own way to shine.
i am happyer at home, bathed in and warmed by the incandescent glow of my children. happy solstice to all, and to all a good night.