A Weary World

My vision is blurred . I squint and tilt my head just so, but still struggle to see what I most want to focus on.

What comes to mind most often are two words lifted from one of my favourite songs of the season. Words that have nothing to do with holly jolly or jingling bells and seem to miss the point altogether.

Weary world.

Sometimes I linger in the weariness. I grab a blank and curl up to rest because I’m so dang tired not from work or busyness or anything other than carrying the weight of this year.

Just give me a moment. Or two. Or ten. I just need to catch my breath.

And, like old time movies where torn calendar pages illustrate the passage of time, the days pass and we make our way through Advent toward the solstice and twelve days and, eventually, a beginning.

Meanwhile, my head hurts from all the squinting, but I can make out a light through the fog. After a time of rest, I fold up my blanket and take another step closer to the next word in that song.

This year is not the worst I’ve endured. It’s not the first, and likely not the last, holiday season that will be tough to get through. (Actually, it’s not that it’s especially difficult this year. More that it’s . . . I don’t know . . . just not.)

Hang on. We’re inching toward light.

It’s darkest before dawn.

Yada yada.

Let’s just get reasonably comfortable in the I-don’t-know of this year and keep keening for light. Hold candles for those who stumble. Wait.

And, in due time: rejoice.

A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

O Holy Night


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.

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