@Kim@tech.lgbt in Norway, ‘up and not crying is a not uncommon response to “how’s it going” type questions, and I fell like that’s a very reasonable standard to hold oneself to especially nowadays
I have experienced so many longest nights… the scary longest night of childhood– too scared to cry out for help in the dark too scared not to The sheer powerlessness of not knowing what to do
The longest night of giving birth the pain, the trying to breath, trying to talk everyone trying to help, feeling like no one is trying to help I’ve not been Mary, but Good God the pressure I have experienced that longest night
I have experienced the length of ten millions hours Of the bedside wait for a beloved one to die imminent, and yet too long the wondering if staying is the best thing to do or not, the talking without response– the simultaneous hope that they know you are present but that they don’t, because then they aren’t feeling any pain
I know the powerlessness of longest night moments of parenthood Of sitting on the couch laughing so you don’t cry Because you don’t know what to do next, as your child is anguished and alone– And you Cry right in front of them “I am here” As they are crying about how alone they feel
I have felt the chilliness of the Longest Night of being alone– how cold it feels to have no friends what it means to be laughed at every time you speak shunned, and ostracized The awkwardness of being your neurodivergent self And realizing there is no other way to be
And then again during the isolation of Covid where we all, kept each other safe briefly
Before all the wars resumed
I have not experienced every longest night, but I have had to pick what bill not to pay I have stand in the grocery line with WIC Praying that all of my credit cards do not bounce I have had long payment plans with the IRS, And preached to help the poor knowing that I am actually being self-referential
When I think of the Darkest night of the Soul and Jesus, with his guts spilled out on the cross I feel like I understand a little more when I had to relearn how to walk how to eat how to defecate after surgery–and feel the worst pain ever to recover (And it makes me wonder about If Jesus walked to Emmaus because he had to relearn it, And if he didn’t eat, because he couldn’t yet)
The longer I live The more I understand the Longest Nights and I think, we need time to sit in silence grief loneliness charity
with one another Because humans experience Longest nights And I believe God sits with us and cradles us and sings us lullabies until the dawn arrives again.
Happy Solstice The Shortest Day of the Longest Fucking Year of Our Lives
Please feel free to use/share/adapt with credit to Pastor Katy Stenta “KatyandtheWord”
God, on this the longest night of the year..and the shortest day, and the dance between Jupiter and Saturn dance so close together, they appear to be as one. I’m thinking deep thoughts.
I am praying, as I nestle in the dark, to embrace the long night. To have the stamina and wait for morning.
I am thinking how sometimes my head is pounding with stress and that it is then I retreat into the darkness. Quieting and darkening my thoughts.
It is different to meditate in the dark.
It is different to nestle in the dim light of the moon.
God I thank you for the comfort of the dark, for it is comforting to let the bits of sadness and anxiety and anger come–and to let them dissipate safely into the dark.
I am thankful when the darkness creeps towards bedtime, when the kids are (finally) able to be put to bed. For the minutes or hours I have to stay up afterwards, and for the permission for myself to call it a day a go to bed!
I thank you for the moments without the glow of lights or electronics. The moments I wake up in the middle of the night and take a deep breath and am comforted that it is not yet time to get up, that the children are still asleep, that it is dark outside.
I am thankful for the night and the winter and the changes in sunlight and moonlight. I am thankful for their changing consistency (how many times does the Bible compare you, God to the sun and the moon).
Thank you for the solace of this solstice. And I pray that when the sun rises, I remain grateful.
Please, let the dark continue to be a blessing I pray, in you–the shade in the sun, the shelter in the heat and the night after an endless long day.
katyandtheword 