Not Feeling Festive? Light a Solstice Candle

Not feeling festive? I get it. When you’re caring for a loved one with dementia… When you’re grieving that loved one’s death, December can be a cruel month. The holidays remind us that the rest of the world is celebrating the season of joy and of giving. We feel sad and empty.  

But there is hope. If you listened to the previous episode, you know I don’t use that word lightly.  I’m using it now because the Winter Solstice is here. The Sun, the light, is returning…. And no one can hold back the dawn. … 

The gift of light in a dark time… that’s what this episode, #13, is all about. 

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You’re listening to My Spouse Has Dementia, a podcast that uses personal stories, occasional interviews, and simple rituals to support dementia caregiving spouses. My goal is to help us SURVIVE. … because about 40% of us die first. I’m Zita Christian, writer, Life-Cycle Celebrant, widow. My husband had Alzheimer’s. He died in July.  

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We’re in the season of giving, which means it’s also the season of receiving.  In the spirit of the season, let me give you a story. 

Once there was and twice there was not, a time just like this in an ancient world. For six months, the people watched the Sun travel farther and farther away. They grew anxious. The Sun had power, health, vitality. The people needed the Sun to warm the earth so when spring came, they could plant their crops. Without the life-giving Sun, nothing would grow. The people would die. 

The old Wise Ones in the village reminded the people that the Sun always returned. Still, the people worried. What if this year was different?  

The Wise Ones considered the possibility. They told the people to light bonfires. Make noise. Sing! Call the Sun back. So that’s what the people did. In ancient Rome, the festivities became known as the Saturnalia in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture. Over time, the festival grew to seven days, from December 17 to the 23rd.  And don’t you know…every year on or about December 21 or 22, the Sun began its journey back to the people, fulfilling the promise of new life. 

In gratitude and celebration, the people gave gifts. Small gifts. They gave these little gifts every day, always saving the best gift for the last day. 

This WOW gift held the promise of light in the darkness. It held the promise of life itself.  If you received this WOW gift, you knew the giver wanted you to have power, health, and vitality. The WOW gift was a piece of the Sun itself.  The WOW gift was a candle. 

Not now– wait till after you listen to this episode – think of a word, just one word, that describes a gift of the spirit you would like to give to others and receive for yourself. You might choose Joy, Creativity, Wisdom, Laughter, Compassion, Patience, Abundance. The choice is yours. Let it come from where you are on the caregiving journey. What do you need right now? 

For me, the word is CONTENTMENT.  My husband died 5 months ago. I’ve accepted the reality, not that I have a choice. Yet, as a Life-Cycle Celebrant I’ve conducted funeral services and memorials for others. I know that one of the main reasons we have funerals is to help us accept the reality of death. 

As for CONTENTMENT, that’s just a speck on a far horizon. When I think about giving that sense of peace to my family and friends, I imagine that I’m also receiving it. Sounds too woo-woo? Well, I’m all about the woo! 

Astrologer Caroline Casey often says, “Imagination lays the tracks for the reality train to follow.”  I believe that. So for the new year, I’m going to create a vision board filled with images of what CONTENTMENT means to me. I don’t want a picture of a beach. I want a picture of a woman my age walking along the beach. I don’t want a picture of a computer. I want to see a woman my age sitting at the keyboard, writing a novel. I don’t want a picture of a plate of food. I want a picture of a woman my age cooking up a delicious meal for her girlfriends, especially those scarred by the loss of a spouse. The women are all laughing, raising wine glasses to celebrate good health and toast their friendship.  I want a picture of my sisters, my daughter, my son-in-love, my grandson. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing in the picture. We’re together. 

Once you’ve chosen your word – the spiritual gift you want to both give and receive – light a candle. Just as the Solstice Sun promised to warm the earth so that crops would grow and people would survive, imagine the flame of your candle lighting the way for your gift to reach you. 

On my desk is a well worn copy of a book of poetry by my friend Judi K. Beach. She died in 2008. The book is titled How Far Light Must Travel.  Since my husband died, I read from that book every night, always one particular poem. It’s called “No Matter How Dark.” Judi wrote it after her husband died. I’ll put a link to the book in the shownotes. 

In the poem, Judi paints images of darkness and despair. From that place of grief where pain is the constant, she reminds us that even then, there is light. We just aren’t accustomed to seeing it. She urges us to remember the sun, to remember that it is always rising somewhere in the world. And to remember how far light must travel. We need to hold fast to the truth that, whether it takes a night, a month, or a year, the Sun is coming…and when it reaches us, it will light and lift our sorrow.  

Sometime today, December 21, choose the spiritual gift you want to both give and receive – like CONTENTMENT. Then light a candle. Imagine the light finding its way to you. 

If you’re willing to share your spiritual gift, please send me an email. Write to: Zita@MySpouseHasDementia.com.  We’re making our way through the dark. Your light will help. 

In the meantime, drink a lot of water. Get some exercise, even if that means walking through the rooms of your home. Sleep when you can. When I say: take good care of yourself, those words aren’t fluffy. They’re fierce. We need to survive. 

Thanks for listening….