I've had some difficulties this winter with my health. It's probably due to a change in medication, but it came on just about the time that we had the daylight savings time change. The cold and the dark have affected me strongly and I find myself very sluggish.
I continue my love affair with what I don't have: robust, blooming, strong health. I wonder sometimes if anyone really has it; it seems like people do, but maybe they're faking it, like I am. How about you—do you feel fantastic? Even when I've felt well in my life, I've never felt strong. (My jr. high gym teacher called me "Bird Arms." It wasn't until I had grown up, earned my own teaching certificate, and learned to enjoy at least some small exercise in my life that it dawned on me what an atrocity it was that the teacher in charge of helping me find joy in taking care of my body was actually the cause of my hatred of anything having to do with exercise for many years.) I so look forward to the resurrection when I will be strong and run like a gazelle (also, I will have long, thick hair and a strong chin instead of this weak, doughy thing).
But in my foggy fatigue this winter I have been grateful more than ever before for the lights with which we celebrate Christmas. When even the middle of the day seems dark outside, I keep my outdoor decorative lights on. And all day I keep the Christmas tree lights and the ones decorating the banister burning. I can't believe how cheering it is to me to have them on.
I won't bore you with obvious statements about what light at Christmas-time really represents—you know it already. But I like to ponder how they keep burning, steadily along, regardless of whether the sun is up or down, or whether I am feeling well and triumphant or tired and grumpy.
They make me want to cry.