hope

Number of pictures I took on Christmas Day: zero. Well, one, but only because I needed it to ask a friend a question over WhatsApp. Did we have a good Christmas? I guess? We got up, watched Greg sing, had a nice breakfast, opened some presents, ate lunch, and worked on our new Legos (I couldn't muster much enthusiasm for gift-buying this year; thankfully Daniel took up the slack 😇). But it didn't feel much like Christmas. Caroline's theory, "...because I've been getting presents all year...and we've been spending lots of time in the apartment together..." This is true, the time isn't particularly special this year because we've had so darn much "special time" together. Will we someday remember this time fondly? Has it brought us closer together in ways we can't appreciate right now? Or will it be a blur of months that all felt...a bit like being in forced confinement with three other people whom we love but never wanted to spend, like, *every minute of* our time with?? I'm looking forward to finding out. 

For my part it also doesn't feel like Christmas because our liturgical season of waiting followed by celebration has been overshadowed by the pandemic season of waiting followed by more waiting. The celebration will come - and of course this is a good reminder that Christmas isn't about celebrating the triumphal arrival a king so much as it is about remembering that tiny spark - in a manger in Bethlehem, or more likely in an anonymous house in Nazareth - that would someday become a great teacher of Love. And/or the longest night of the year, after which we know that the nights will start getting shorter again. And/or the distribution of the first doses of vaccine against a pandemic virus. What we're celebrating isn't that things are better, it's that we know they'll get better. 

So for my last song of this year's ill-conceived singing Advent calendar...I'm just not up for
"Joy to the World" even though I do, sincerely, wish joy to the world! Here instead is the Taizé chant "Dans nos obscurités." Look at all those people in one place!! 

Dans nos obscurités / Allume le feu qui ne s'éteint jamais

Within our darkest night / [you] kindle the fire that never dies away. 

Hang in there, everybody. 

Detail from that nativity scene at the Münsterhof; there's a picture of the whole thing here.