I’ve had occasion to stay with a friend the last few months. In the spring when I stepped out of my room, the sun lit the hallway end to end. Through summer it was there every morning accompanying me as I started my day. I noticed how gradually after the fall equinox that beam of light began to narrow, falter and gradually fade.
Since mid-November mornings have been dark, pitch black. I have to turn on the hall switch to find my way to the front door. But I have had the experience too now some mornings of walking out the front door of the building to see the sun rise (my friend lives on the river valley). And I can’t help but watch for a moment before going on with my day. It never fails to take my breath away.
My mom died this fall. As a family we got to vigil with her in her last week and took turns staying the night. The first night I stayed she was restless and neither of us got much sleep. The sun wasn’t up yet but the first signs were there. It was morning. The room started to fill with light. She was still conscious but couldn’t speak much. Suddenly she pointed at the blinds. She kept pointing Up up! So I rolled them up and there was the sky, clear of clouds, red from rim to rim. She smiled. I babbled a bit. We both sat watching the sky, alive like a cinematic afterglow. It was one of the last conscious moments we had together.
Later, going through her personal papers, I found a photo she had taken of the sun rising over our old farm yard and an account she had written about leaving the farm in 1983:
In my heart I’m still a country person. To see the sunrise early in the morning, cows waiting to be milked and a greening shining crop in the fields!
I think she was watching the sun rise all her life. The sun is there every day. Our lives pretty well revolve around it. Perhaps with climate change that awareness is starting to come home to us. But I know I don’t think about it enough or how much our world is shaped by it.
I am glad to pause on this winter solstice to give thanks for the circle of life.
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