Advent I: Hope

Poof! It's December!

This year, I knew I would need the Advent Candle tradition to anchor my soul, and so made a point of buying the appropriate tapers ahead of time. (Score one for self-care.)

Last night I tidied up my dining room table (which, despite my best efforts, generally has a collection of whatsit strewn across its surface), dimmed the lights, and put on some quiet music. I brewed myself a cup of tea, lit the first of the Advent candles, and settled in to watch the flame.

Hope. Such a small light. So much darkness.

As I sat and watched, a few tears escaped and trickled down my cheeks. This has been a hard year. Hope feels risky. If I dare to hope, I might hope in vain. And it hurts when a flame of hope gets snuffed out. 

I am afraid. There are so many dark portents whirling in the world's winds - both the larger world, and the world of my life. I was tempted to sink down and let the darkness take over.

But that's the thing about light. Even a small light dispels the dark. Fear wants me to believe the darkness is greater, but it's not. Emily Dickinson's words came to me:

Hope is the thing with feathers 
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all

I took a deep breath. "I can choose," I told myself. 
I can both acknowledge the Fear and know it is not the only Power.

I opened the door to my heart, listened to the song of Hope. 
I watched the darkness wither down, losing much of its power in the light of the candle.

Hope, anyways. 
Yes.