We go down to sleep, knowing a new day awaits us. Night is not eternal. But it must come for there to be day.
Snow has fallen and will continue to fall. Summer is lost to us; winter marches onward, its drumbeats shivering through us. Every day grows shorter, colder. But the world is not falling into bottomless darkness; it is not dying. It is only going down to sleep—to await a new day.
Until then, we cling to hope, even when the night seems hopeless. And then, in the depths of winter, Light will come to the stables of our hearts. We will finally see ourselves as we are—dirty, poor, cramped—and the choice will be before us: welcome in Light to make beautiful a mess, or shut the doors and enter into an eternal night.
We are awaiting the advent of Light, yes, but not passively. We must prepare to receive Him, to awaken to a new day, to enter into spring. For even if the world outside should remain frozen, we may discover that, within out hearts, summer is not in fact lost to us.
