Places of Light

As we come to the end of the year, I find myself at a loss for words. If we were able to read the script for this year in December 2019, would we have believed it?

I find my mind, heart and spirit drawn to places of light. Even amidst the darkest days of the year, I find hope and promise in the many ways the light shines around us. Amidst celebrations of Hannukah, Christmas, and Kwanzaa, lights and the stories of lights will fill homes across the land. It is with that in mind that I offer this poem from Jan Richardson, a United Methodist minister and artist.

How the Light Comes

I cannot tell you
how the light comes.

What I know
is that it is more ancient
than imagining.

That it travels
across an astounding expanse
to reach us.

That it loves
searching out
what is hidden,
what is lost,
what is forgotten
or in peril
or in pain.

That it has a fondness
for the body,
for finding its way
toward flesh,
for tracing the edges
of form,
for shining forth
through the eye,
the hand,
the heart.

I cannot tell you
how the light comes,
but that it does.
That it will.
That it works its way
into the deepest dark
that enfolds you,
though it may seem
long ages in coming
or arrive in a shape
you did not foresee.

And so
may we this day
turn ourselves toward it.
May we lift our faces
to let it find us.
May we bend our bodies
to follow the arc it makes.
May we open
and open more
and open still

to the blessed light
that comes.

—Jan Richardson

(“How the Light Comes” appears in Jan’s new book Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons.)

May the light come to you and your loved ones this season, and may it be bright enough to burn away the unwanted remnants of 2020, making room for 2021 and so much more.