Thanksgiving-Lights

I like the coincidence of Chanukah and Thanksgiving. The farther north you travel, the darker the season surrounding Thanksgiving. For instance, living in the southern US, you may have days that are still longer than 10 hours, while here, we may have 90 minutes less "day" each day. Intrinsic in Chanukah is the God-given nature of light, especially when none ought be. That it appears in the darkest season (for the northern hemisphere) has definitely helped me refocus on Yeshua's guiding light through our spiritual, emotional, and anxious seasons. I'm ever reminded of how God appeared as a pillar of flame for the Israelites as they were led from Egypt (which links Chanukah to my favorite holiday: Passover), and I'm encouraged by this beacon of promise and hope, even when my future footsteps aren't clear.

I'm thankful for all those in my life who have been lights for me: family, friends, mentors. They are too many to name, and my words would be insufficient praise for their love. I cringe a little, because I feel like thanksgiving almost makes me feel cliche about thankfulness. It should not. Being thankful is something we can almost always use a little more of, even especially in the darkest times of the year.

Soul Tea

I've gleaned much this weekend, from restorative fields. Friday stretched on into forever, work demanding concentration I thought long dissipated throughout the week's hectic tumbling. And finally I burst into the clear. I felt like my submarine had imploded beneath the sea. I swam with all my might towards the surface, and the going became tougher and tougher until finally I broke free, the water tension of the surface breaking around me. It was none so difficult, nor so deadly or anxious, but the weekend was a breath of fresh air.

And once it arrived, it arrived with panache. Grey clouds covered the sky, but the sun cracked its way through and a light show danced towards earth, illuminating the cottonwood seeds floating about the sky like pixie dust or summer snow. I ran and ran for soccer, and grew tired and ran some more, through a beautiful sunset of cotton-candy clouds and into the early twilight. Arriving home, I collapsed in bed and wrote and read until I fell asleep. I woke bright and early and skyped with A and S for several hours, smiling and ponderously engaging in the diamonds and coals of life. Then P and guest came over and we explored Newberg, eating burritos and cilantro salsa and kicking around a soccer ball on the turf fields.

Finally, I rested half an hour before heading out to the lake for a bit of canoeing, picnicking, swinging on a giant swing between the trees, wire-walking, sunset canoeing, archery, and, eventually, goodbye hugs. I drove back beneath stars just peeping into being in the heavens. As a child, I remember books like "Chicken Soup for the Soul", and I think this was my chicken soup for my soul. A perfect Sabbath.

One thing I heard about Sabbath once was that God rested on the 7th day, and not the first. God did not rest to prepare for the upcoming week, but to celebrate a week that was good. It is a tiny difference, but one I really appreciate. I had a most excellent week, and celebrating it on the river with cider (they had beer) and bread was the perfect end to a week. Thank you, Lord, for the Soul Tea. I know I'm going to need it.