I wrote a version of this post last year for the website Deeper Story. It feels even more true this year.
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I am standing in the yard with a rake in my hands when I feel the circle of the year begin to tie itself up with a neatly finished knot.
Since moving to this old farmhouse on the hill, my late November chores are always the same. Chopping up the great drifts of fallen maple leaves with the mower. Cleaning out the brittle tomato vines and the slimy, still-green nasturtiums from the vegetable garden. Covering each raised bed with a winter blanket of chopped leaves.
I tear the blackened cords of morning glory and moonflower from the porch, scattering the seeds of next summer’s flowers in the process. Our compost bins overflow.
I circle the fruit trees in our tiny orchard with deer fencing. I mound the roses with wood chips.
The year is dying. The trees and shrubs prepare to sleep. And every wheelbarrow load of mulch underscores the end of our year’s work.
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My friend and I meet each week in the local, big-chain coffee shop. December was still weeks away when I walked in to find that our familiar corner table now sat beneath dangling paper bells. And was it snowing in there? I am sure it was snowing glitter.
It felt so deeply wrong but also festive, and I wondered if I had become a thirty-seven-year-old curmudgeon.
I’m not the bah-humbug type. I don’t begrudge anyone their seasonal fun. But it was clear to me, sitting in a coffee shop that shone like red tin foil, that my heart, mind, and soul were tuned to some other rhythm.
It was still November, and I was not ready for Christmas feasting. The old, dying year hadn’t yet been laid to rest.
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“Do not conform to the pattern of this world …”
I’ve known those words since childhood. But I think that it is only now, having watched the year circle this hilltop a few times, that I feel the rift, small but growing, that lies between me and long familiar patterns.
It turns out there is a difference between the earth and the world. One is a circle, a globe if you will, shaped by the shifting tides of work and rest. The other is also a circle, but it is more like a hamster’s wheel jangling away beneath twenty-four-hour floodlights.
I am increasingly out of sync with the world. I am longing to inherit the earth.
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December blows in on a polar wind. We mark this month’s progress with a circle of candles. Sunday after Sunday there is more light by which to see.
What I see, from the top of this hill, is an earth gone to sleep. While the world spins itself out in dizzy circles of consumption, the earth recognizes that its work is done. New things, like new years, begin with sleep (which is to say, surrender), and winter is a season for rest.
I like to think that this is what it looks like to store up treasure in heaven. The trees know they need only wait. A few more months, and heaven will return every good thing we have lost. That is the meaning of spring.
The world knows little of Advent and will be, I fear, all worn out by the evening of December 25. The traditional twelve days are too many when the feast began in mid-November.
But the earth has one sermon that has never lost its power.
When spring returns, even the weary world rejoices.
Beautiful reflection on this time of year. I loved your thought, “I am increasingly out of sync with the world. I am longing to inherit the earth.” And the line “a few more months, and heaven will return every good thing we have lost.” Thank you for sharing these inspiring thoughts.
Thank you, Terry. Thank you for reading along with me.
Beautiful and peaceful and true.
Thank you, Erin. Peace be with you, friend.
Gorgeous writing
Thank you, Jane. Truly.
Oh, I loved everything about this piece. You were speaking to my heart this morning. Thank you. This last month, I found myself welcoming the opportunity to hibernate in November. To light candles, play games, nestle inside all cozy when the daylight ends. I want to carry this quiet with me into December. That seems to be what December is made for.
One of my little girl’s earliest words was “cozy.” We take cozy pretty seriously around here. 🙂
Hear, hear! I love this. I want to get off the world and join earth! Love this piece.
Beautifully expressed. Your words captured so well how out of tune the world is with the earth that God created. Thank you for this gift of prose that you have touched my heart with.
Thank you.
So insightful! . . . and thought-provoking. Love your writing! d
I love reading your prose. The words you choose are wonderful as are the sentiments it contains. I would, however, like to share with you another tradition regarding Christmas. Orthodox Christians start the Nativity Fast on November 15 – 40 days before Christmas. I set up my Christmas tree on that day because we are preparing for the Nativity. Orthodox Christians are not very well known in the States. I just thought that I’d share. Thank you for your beautiful posts.
Lori, thank you so much for taking the time to leave a comment. I knew about the mid-November fast but had no idea that a Christmas tree might be set up on that day! How beautiful and meaningful. My mother was raised Orthodox, but I’m afraid that not many of the traditions were passed down. I love learning more (and I am so grateful for the richness of Orthodox theology. For The Life Of The World by Alexander Schmemann is one of my very favorite books).
Beautiful perspective. Thank you for this reminder to not conform to this world. To live as the Earth does. To seek rest. When spring returns, even the world rejoices.
beautiful! thank you