Nine hours, four minutes and thirty-seven seconds. That’s the amount of daylight we get today, often given the misnomer of the “Shortest Day of the Year” when it should be “The Day with the Least Amount of Daylight,” but who am I to quibble. Nine hours, four minutes and thirty-seven seconds is not much sunlight no matter how you parse it out.
[featured-image single_newwindow=”false”]Phil LaBelle (c) 2017.[/featured-image]
It’s the time when we sit in a great darkness. And even though it’s supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, sometimes it just isn’t. Sometimes circumstances rock our boats as if a storm has kicked up, and the waves are beginning to crash over the hull of the boat, and fear sets in. The loss of a job, hardship in a relationship, a painful diagnosis, the death of someone you love, addiction, trouble with a family member, a huge misunderstanding, infidelity. Oh that list can go on and on, and I’ve known many a Christmas seasons of my own that fit those bleak descriptions. Like the one Christmas when doctors found multiple spots on my Dad’s lungs. Or the year we moved and nothing felt right. That Christmastide when the company I worked for shuttered its doors the very week Melissa and I got married. The years my mom’s depression overshadowed Christmas during my childhood.