On Friday, the first day after the winter solstice, the sun was in the sky for one second longer than the day before.

Saturday, the sky pressed down as the earth strained to tilt, groaning to change direction. Gravity tugged at my blood. I dragged myself around the field with the dog. Indoors, I was stupid with stupor.

Sunday—Christmas Eve—we joined friends for oysters and hilarity followed by church with music, candlelight, and incense: the music joyous, the incense suffocating.

But on Christmas Day, the barometer of the year began to lift. The sun made a brief appearance. My heart pumped harder. I’ve been around the sun enough times to know we’re climbing back into the light, where there’s hope for the earth and one another. It’s the gift of another year.

May blessings shine upon you.