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S. A. J. Lyttek, a multiple award-winning writer, always loved writing, but didn’t arrive at the profession in the typical manner. After college and graduate school, she plunged into government consulting. In this environment, she discovered a knack for writing tests, interviews and other measurements. That soon became the focus of her career—reigniting her love for the written word. Thus captivated, she spent evenings freelancing “fun” writing including short stories, poems, articles and cards. When her eldest was a toddler, she quit full-time work to stay home and write. Eager to spend more time with her children, homeschooling intrigued her. From preschool through high school, she homeschooled both sons while continuing to freelance. While an integral part of the homeschooling community, she developed and taught writing classes to a generation of homeschoolers. Married to her childhood sweetheart, Gary, Mrs. Lyttek loves to share her commitment to learners of all ages and her fascination with the written word.
Sometimes I like having a birthday close to the holidays. Sometimes I don’t. But what I argue with God periodically about is, why did my birthday have to be in January? January is, quite frankly, a depressing month.
The holidays are over. People have gone home. Here, in the Northern hemisphere, it’s cold. Even if you are fortunate to have a mild winter, the days are grey or slanted. The sun doesn’t feel right. Its angle has a coldness to it that doesn’t quite warm body or spirit. Quite frankly, it makes me grumpy. It makes me fragile and quick to cry. And I hate it.
This is the second week in a row where I was trying to write a blog post that was light-hearted. Meaningful, with a great takeaway, but not as intense.
I started it. I liked where it was going. And then all the words ground to a halt.
Ugh.
I’ve written about this mood before. More times than I wish were true I’ve blogged or written poems about the thick haze that can descend without warning. There are days, and lots of them occur in January, where it feels like a cloud drops over my spirit. I know what’s real and true intellectually, but temporarily, I can’t see it.
Some things do help. Making myself go out and see friends helps. Working out with Gary does help. Both sleep and eating good food do moderate my mood a bit. But then all it takes is a small hiccup and the grey crashes in again.
Recognizing this recurring theme, I recently bought myself (with birthday money) one of those mood therapy lights.
It does work, I think. I turn it on and my emotions warm. The problem comes when it turns off. I want to turn it back on immediately instead of waiting and treating it like a vitamin or medicine that needs certain doses. It’s like I crave the light. I can’t get enough of it.
And that, because of how I’m wired, got me thinking. (Pretty much anything gets me thinking which is why you might find me awake at 2 AM trying to solve a plot twist, fix a conversation I already had, or find the perfect word for a poem.) In one sense, the eternal sense, we are supposed to crave the Light.
Before He created anything else, God created light. Then, when He led Israel through the wilderness, He became their light, their guide. He made sure the Tabernacle and later the Temple were filled with light. God focuses a lot on how we need his light, particularly in the darkest days. Isaiah 9:2 The people who walked in darkness Have seen a great light; Those who dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, Upon them a light has shined.
In his epistle, the apostle John reminds us that the essence of Jesus is light; He is a pure light without any darkness or slant. He is the light my soul craves on winter days.
I found it interesting that if you do a Bible search for light, the word appears the most in the book of Job. If anyone had a dark night of the soul, it was Job. Even so, he sought and saw the light. And when he couldn’t see it because of the pain, he remembered it.
We are like the children of Narnia trapped in the world below. We know there’s something more. We hunger for a brighter world, a reality above where we are truly home. In the moments of darkness and confusion, it’s the spells of the fallen that keep us prisoner and dim the memories of a sunshiny day. In those times, may we all find our friendly Puddleglum to stomp out the deceit and remind us of what is true.
Revelation 22:5 There shall be no night there: They need no lamp nor light of the sun, for the Lord God gives them light. And they shall reign forever and ever.
Maybe I should be grateful for these January days. Because they remind me not to be too comfortable in this dark and dying world.