Category Archives: solitude
Into the solstice I go
Winter has a way of isolating us.
From each other.
From life.
From our Savior.
The cold penetrates and causes us to suck into our selves, and our selves are not a good place to stay. Not for long, anyway.
We weren’t meant to live alone.
We weren’t meant to live in the dark.
And yet, at times, I think the sharp edges of isolation have a way of cutting into places of the heart which need healing.
So, despite my longing to stay indoors, enveloped by a warm, wooly afghan and curled up next to one of our curled up dogs, I go.
I pull on my walking clothes, wrap a scarf around my neck, tuck my mittens into the sleeves of my parka, and I go.
Into the angled glare of a sunken sun, kissing the horizon like a lover longing to touch more . . .
. . . I go.
And in sunlight I find solace.
Smiting the unbridgeable solstice between hurt and healing, solace shows up like a waltzing curl of winter air on stretching beams of light.
The.
Light.
So will it be when the Lord begins to heal His people.
So will it be.
In the sunlight.
The moon will shine like the sun, and the sunlight will be seven times brighter, like the light of seven full days, when the LORD binds up the bruises of his people and heals the wounds he inflicted. ~Isaiah 30:26 NIV




















