Light of the World

 

Covid is like Dr. Seuss' Grinch this year, putting the "bah humbug" in treasured family traditions. (Nothing like mixing a couple of Christmas metaphors, but when the situation fits ...)

Despite the pandemic, a Hutchinson neighborhood continued to offer Christmas cheer.

 

Last Saturday, December 19, was the 35th year for the luminaries in the Hyde Park area of Hutchinson. Annually, it's a one-night only holiday event, with an estimated 17,000 of the holiday luminaries lining the neighborhood from Main to Monroe between 18th to 23rd Avenues. 

Even though they've been offering this holiday event for 35 years - and we're only about 35 miles from it - we've never gone before. Usually, I'm frantically trying to make treats and wrap presents before family celebrations. But our family Christmas was a fortnight ago.

So this open-air celebration of Light seemed to be the perfect antidote to a "Blue Christmas" this year. 

Luminaries - or farolitos - are small paper lanterns, popular in Hispanic culture. They first gained popularity in the U.S. in New Mexico at Christmas time, especially on Christmas Eve. According to Wikipedia, the early versions were actually small bonfires of crisscrossed piñon branches which were built in three-foot high squares. Today, most luminaries are made from brown paper bags, weighted down with sand, and illuminated from within by a lit candle. I was surprised: I figured more would feature battery-powered candles, but all the ones I examined had real candles and flames.

 

Luminaries are typically arranged in rows to create large and elaborate displays. 

In the Hispanic culture, the hope is that the lights will guide the spirit of the Christ Child to one's home.

In recent times they are seen more as a secular decoration, akin to Christmas lights. Most years, the Hyde Park neighborhood has offered wagon rides, visits with Santa, carolers and other fun. But this year, with restrictions for social distancing because of Covid-19, the lights took center stage.

There was still plenty of beauty, and lots of people roamed the neighborhood on a mild winter's night.

The scene ranged from old mansions decked in festive lights to a more modern version featuring everybody's favorite elf, Buddy.

I think we could all use a little extra dose of Light this year. I know I can.

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Just like most North Americans, I was outside to try and see the Christmas Star last night. My real camera died at the end of my time in Hutchinson Saturday night, but I never have any luck with moon and star shots anyway. On Snapshot Kansas last night, I saw some of the equipment a few real photographers were using to capture the scene, with cameras attached to telescopes. And even they weren't getting the image we've been associating with the Wise Men since we first saw the scene illustrated in our colorful children's Bibles.

My cell phone images were forgettable. Some headlights and a brake light on the Zenith Road provided a few more bursts of light. But we enjoyed our excursion and are glad we could experience something that hadn't happened since 1623.

Astronomers call it a great conjunction, with Saturn and Jupiter cozying up in the night sky. It's also been called the “Christmas Star” or “Star of Bethlehem” because of its brightness and proximity to Dec. 25. The conjunctions occur every 20 years, and this was the closest the planets had appeared since the Middle Ages, according to the NASA website. 

I'd begun my quest at sunset, and, as usual, Kansas skies did not disappoint.

Christmas will be different this year. 

 

But I still need to find the silver linings anywhere I can. After all, we are again celebrating the Light of the World. 

The darkness of the world can only be cured by the Light of the One who created it.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas - no matter what it looks like this year!

Goodbye, Hello!

I shoved my feet into Randy's boots, zipped up my heavy coat and ventured out to watch the final sunset of 2017 Sunday evening.

Earlier, I kept lifting the curtain on the front door and peaking out to see if the sunset would be worth leaving my nice warm house and my good book. The thermometer hadn't gotten above 7 degrees all day, and wind chills put the temperature well below zero.

But there's only one time to see the final sunset of a year, so I compromised. I used Randy's boots which were inside the house and, unlike mine, not on the frigid confines of the back porch. And I drove to the corner south to watch the final moments of day transition to night ... and likewise, to begin the transition from 2017 to 2018.

I then decided to use my "sunrise tree" from a different perspective. I drove past it, did a 3-point turn and then turned my camera to the west.

With the end of 2017 documented, I decided I'd also photograph the first sunrise of 2018.  True confessions: I probably should have gotten up a little earlier on New Year's Day. It's not like I'd been partying the night before. In fact, I didn't make it to midnight. But it was a holiday, so I decided not to set my alarm as early as usual.

I looked at the newspaper to find the time for sunrise and set the alarm for 15 minutes before that. My first shot of 2018 was similar to my final one of 2017. My sunrise tree - located to the corner south and just a bit to the east - was my "model" as the sun rose for the first time in 2018 in south central Kansas.

There were fewer clouds than the night before, so the colors painted the horizon without frills and texture.

I drove a little further to the east to another of my favorite sunrise spots - a windmill in a neighbor's pasture.

And then I ended my cold foray into 2018 in my own backyard, taking a photo of our old silo. I watched as a jet painted a streak in the sky, an unexpected symbol of moving forward into the new year.

This morning, I again opened a book I've been reading as part of my Advent devotionals, While We Wait: Living the Questions of Advent by Mary Lou Redding.

A shot of the tree before Christmas 2017

I sat in our living room with the Christmas tree still aglow, knowing that I've put "taking down the Christmas stuff" on my to-do list today. And I read these words:

We do seem in a hurry sometimes to put away Christmas. ... 'When it's over, it's over.' ... We also seem in a hurry after Christmas to box up once again our patience, our tolerance, our generosity and put them back in the attic, as if we can sustain good behavior for a few weeks but wouldn't want to risk making it a way of life. We may also put away our willingness to give a bit more, to be more forgiving, even to be more patient, as we often are during the holidays. Perhaps we even box up our desire to hope and our openness to miracles and mystery, as if the messages of the Christmas stories can't quite survive the rigors of real life the rest of the year. The Magi call us to continue our observance of Christ's coming after December is over.

Mary Lou Redding

Thankfully, the Light of the World came. He doesn't go away when we pack away the treetop angel or try to stuff the greenery and stockings inside the plastic tub of holiday decorations for another year.

And I'm reminded of that truth when I view His magnificent writing on the sky - whether it's the last sunset of the year ... the first sunrise of the year ... or any time in between.

Here's hoping you see the sunrises and sunsets of life in 2018 with new eyes and new hope. Happy New Year from The County Line!

Fireflies and Golden Skies

Tiny pinpoints of light punctuate the dusk as fireflies take flight. They remind me a little of the peripheral vision tests I take at the optometrist, but instead of clutching a button tightly in my right hand and holding my breath in typical Type A, don't-fail-this-test form, I breathe in deeply and sit back as comfortably as I can on the hard concrete of our front steps while I watch the free show.

Light ... it's such a powerful thing in the darkness, even when it's a fleeting millisecond as a firefly streaks across the yard, seemingly playing tag with its friends. This summertime light show is accompanied by music from other insects and the rumble of a nearby tractor playing background bass.

Light ... the moments at sunrise and sunset are some of my favorite times of the day.

A June sunrise

Some mornings simply take your breath away with their beauty, a brocade of golden threads woven across the backdrop of blue sky.

A June sunrise

Sunset is like the final gift of the day, a reminder to hold onto that beauty as we lay our heads on the pillow for another night for rest and refreshment.

Harvest 2015 sunset

Even the eastern sky can be kissed by light as the sun departs for the day and the moon makes its appearance.

A few weeks ago, news channels and scientists talked about a rare astrological event: The planets of Jupiter and Venus would be in conjunction, and Regulus, the brightest star of the constellation of Leo, would be in close proximity. June 30, 2015, was "advertised" as a sky that would approximate the Star of Bethlehem.

I imagined a Christmas graphic -- a huge twinkling star, big enough to guide the Wise Men, just like in the Sunday School leaflets of my youth.  I anxiously drove the car beyond the trees to our west and looked up. Only the remnants of the sunset remained faintly glowing at the horizon, and the sky was shifting toward inky blackness.  I had arrived at the appointed time.

It wasn't what I was expecting.  The planets weren't perfectly aligned to make that guiding star. Sure, they were closer than normal. It was pretty. But it wasn't a glowing beacon in the nighttime sky.

And, I was a little disappointed. I halfheartedly took a few photos and then erased them. I don't have the photo equipment for capturing the nighttime sky anyway. But this "big event" seemed like false advertising to me.

Then, little dashes of light flashed just above the CRP grasses. The fireflies zigged and zagged in their own makeshift light show. I could hear combines still chomping through ripe wheat and insects hummed in quiet conversation, a kind of background "white noise" from my open car window.  

While some people talked about the beauty of the rare nighttime sky, one other Facebook friend was brave enough to say it wasn't what she'd imagined either.

But beauty doesn't have to happen in a big flashy show. It may be as tiny as pinpoint firefly flashes in the dark. And maybe we can be those little flashes of light, too, human fireflies using our light to pierce the world's darkness.

Open your soul and entertain the glory of God

 and, after a while, 

that glory will be reflected in the world about you 

and in the very clouds above your head.
- Frank C. Laubach, Christian missionary

Matthew 5:14-16
Jesus said, “You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.”

A Time to Think

Worship is a way of gladly reflecting back to God the radiance of His worth.
 –John Piper, preacher and author

A Time to Act

Give thought and thanks for the light of day and the comfort of night.

 Devotional (in blue) from Guideposts.

Carriers of the Light

The sun was slowly saying goodbye to the day as we rode 4-wheelers across the Ninnescah River bridge. After a recent rain, Randy was checking to make sure the fence wire was still in place to keep the cattle where they were supposed to be.

As we again crossed the bridge to take the 4-wheelers back to the trailer, I glanced to my left and saw the sun playing hide and seek through the canopy of century-old trees. It was worth a detour to the cool, light-dappled path under the arms of the cottonwoods and elms.

FYI: HDR treatment on the photo

A few nights later, I was at our school's middle school and high school music concert. One of the songs sung by the 5th and 6th graders, Carriers of the Light by Jerry Estes, reminded me of that quiet scene.

I can get caught up in the daily to-do lists. Words can pierce the soul, many times unintentionally. Attitudes can falter in the crush of a life lived full-speed ahead. But I should be a carrier of Light instead of darkness.

Here are the words to the song. They resonate with me as graduates prepare to walk across high school and college stages this weekend. I should develop this kind of tunnel vision:

We are ignited, we are ablaze,

Burning with the fire of life.

We have invited you to this place,

To step into the circle of light.

Refrain:

We are carriers of the light,

Come to shatter the darkness.

We have power to pierce the night,

Carriers of the light.

Standing together shining our light,

There is no stopping us now.

Chasing the shadows into the night,

Overcoming darkness and doubt.

For when it touches you

When it sets you aglow,

The spark within your heart

will light the flame in your soul!

In case you'd like to listen, here's a children's choir rendition from YouTube. It might as well be stuck in your head, too!

Light for the Darkness

Christ candle & the cross at Stafford United Methodist Church

When we are in darkness

Christ is our light.

When we are in despair,

Christ is our hope.

When we are grieving,

Christ is our comfort.

When we are anxious,

Christ is calm assurance.

For all people gathered in this place,

Christ is for us; let us offer our gifts and praise.

(Our call to worship from Epiphany Sunday, January 5, 2014)

This time of year is always a little sad to me. Just this past Friday, I unhooked the stockings from the mantle. I unplugged the multi-colored lights from the tree and undraped the lighted garland from the grandfather clock. I nestled the angel from the top of the tree in a shoebox, and Randy toted the packed-to-the-brim plastic tubs to the basement, where they will be stowed away for the next 11 months or so.

At church, the Advent wreath goes back in the storage room, and the greenery and twinkling white lights are pulled from the gold banisters and go back into a brown cardboard box.

Sunday was the last day for the white porcelain Nativity scene ...

 

 and the poinsettias.

Out of sight, out of mind, right?

But, no, it shouldn't be that way. While I pack away the bright lights and ornaments of the Christmas season, I shouldn't pack away the truth of Emmanuel: God With Us.

Just like Christmas shouldn't be about just one day, neither should Epiphany (though it is today,  January 6th, each year). The message is for everyone.

"Three Gentile star worshipers show up at the home of a good Jewish family. That is the last thing anyone would expect to happen," Pastor Ben told us in his sermon. "But it shows us that Christ's glory was not just for the Jewish nation but for all nations. ... They kneeled and paid him homage as a symbol of reverence, obedience, submission and an offering up of themselves.

"The journey continues to give us new opportunities to find the Christ Child," Pastor Ben told us yesterday. "The magi expected to find the King in a palace, but that's not where He was. He may be where we least expect Him. ... We find Him in kindness, in forgiveness, in generosity, in the gift of listening. God's glory is bold and different and life-changing and world-changing."

On Sunday, we had communion during the service. And I thought about how fitting that was, too. Because the story doesn't end with the Child. It doesn't end with the cross. Instead, it is Emmanuel: God With Us - yesterday, today and tomorrow. Before we come forward for communion, Pastor Ben says these words from St. Augustine: "Behold what you are; become what we receive." 

Today, we again receive the Light of the World.

Yes, it's time to pack away the Christmas decorations for another year. But I should keeping singing the song of Christmas all the way until Advent next year. And I should keep seeking and receiving the Light.

God of all glory, by the light of a star you led the wise to worship the Christ. By the light of faith lead me to your glory in heaven. Make me wise enough to wonder; make me wise enough to ask why; make me wise enough to search. Give me your wisdom. Give me your light. Give me your Christ, in whose name I pray. Amen.

 (Our offering prayer for January 5, 2014)

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