Those of you who have been reading Simple Moodlings for some time know that I like to choose a word at the beginning of each year, to set a focus for it.
Last year's Word of the Year was unity. As I wrote on January 7, 2021, the choosing of that word was my effort "to be conscious that, although there are many things we disagree on, we can work together for the good of all. Unity asks us to set down our hurt and anger and outrage and try to understand others in a way that invites them to work with us toward the beauty, goodness, and truth that we are all created equal, and the reality that really, we are all one family that needs to come together, not just for our own personal good, but for the good of our earth, especially post-COVID, whenever that time comes."
And it was a good word, as I found myself focusing on collective good -- in the beauty, goodness and truth of the people around me and the world we live in. A unity moment that stands out for me in 2021 was saying goodbye to Garth, a fellow whose smile always made my heart sing. I saw him most Sundays at Inner City Pastoral Ministry, and it seemed like we both made efforts to connect, even if just to greet each other, sometimes with longer conversations about the worship service or what was going on in his life. On the day that he told us he was moving back to BC to be with his daughter and grandchildren, I teared up as I told him I would miss him, and asked if I could give him a masked hug. And wow, was it a good, heartfelt tight squeeze, as I put all my affection for him into one gesture, and maybe he was doing the same. "I'll remember that hug for a long time," he said, and I said, "me too." Our lives could hardly be more different, but that moment of connection and unity meant more to me than words can say.
I have been thinking a lot about my Word of the Year for 2022, and my heart and soul tell me that it has to be light. With all the challenges and struggles our world is facing right now, in these long dark days of winter, I find myself constantly looking for light. Not that darkness doesn't have gifts in its hands -- think of the child in the womb, the midnight sky, the darkness that allows us to rest, the seeds asleep in the blackness of the earth. It always drives me a bit crazy when people equate darkness with evil. Don't they realize that sometimes dark moments are the ones that help us to listen to, befriend and love our own souls better?
It was the darkness of early mornings in Advent that led me to this year's Word of the Year. Sitting in my meditation place, I couldn't see my nature icon very well. It's a dark forest that speaks to me of God's love, with light filtering down through the trees and into a dark rooted pond where God's love also sustains all that is. As I sat trying to see the icon in the darkness, I suddenly remembered that in our darkest cubbyhole under the basement stairs was an old box of partylite candles (purchased pre-children) that had been put away when one of our toddlers accidentally broke a candleholder. I went downstairs immediately, brought the box up, and lit one candle -- and it was just the right amount of light... allowing sufficient darkness for meditation, and enough light to see the image.With the rediscovery of my candles and light as my word for 2022, I want to focus on the small bits of light that are shining through the struggles and challenges in these days. I want to see the people who are quietly making a difference where they are, the strangers who are becoming friends, the humble servant leaders who do what they do without drawing attention to themselves. And as I sit in my meditation place and let the word light come to me and fill me, I ask it not to overpower holy darkness, but to work in each of us and help us to be visible beauty, goodness and truth for each other in this year that is just a few days old.
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