Voices: ‘A winter’s day in a deep and dark December’

The words in the title above open Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel’s song “I Am a Rock.” The song concludes: “And a rock feels no pain.”

When we were kids, we played outside in the neighborhood and sat talking together on the steps near our curbs, out of earshot of parents. We laughed, discussed life and had our first boy/girl flirtations.

Often, at dusk, we played hide-and-seek, running and hiding all over our block. We tore off running between houses and hiding in the bushes of old ladies, probably scaring them to death and making their dogs bark. It was glorious fun, when the days were warm and the evenings were long in Texas.

As late fall and winter descended, we were back indoors with our families and the warm stove and floor furnaces of our 1930s homes. Our homes were old even when I was a child.

Loneliness, homework and tests became a concern, along with waking up early when it was still dark to get to school.Stress replaced the carefree games of summer, and winter was both a wonderfully bright and horribly dark time.

There is deep meaning in the memories of our lives: the seasons, the amount of sunlight, the people we were with in life as memories were made.

For some, evening might be a sad time if daddy came home at 6 p.m. and fighting began. Weekends could have been a time for drinking and abuse; holidays, a time for family emotional explosions.

Darkness of the past

It is uncanny how our feelings today mimic those ingrained in us from the past. The past can be a stronghold. It can be broken with spiritual reorientation.

Jesus is the light who banishes our darkness. Gratitude to him for salvation and blessing bathes us with healing brain chemicals.

People can soak in and swim in fear. I have done it. Keeping up with family and friends battling cancer and other disease, we see the fear and dark thoughts within them, and we understand.

As a cancer patient and then former patient getting checkups, I needed and need to walk in that light. And not just sometimes.

Death is real and something we want to be prepared for. Like a student studying for a test, perhaps we want to make an “A” in death. We want to be ready and have a “good death,” one that doesn’t hurt.

I went through that. I asked: Is my will up to date? Do I want a cemetery or cremation? Should we sing “Holy Ground” as we did at mom’s funeral? How will my young grandchildren cope?

I came to realize after those decisions were made, I needed again to seek the light and not dwell in dark December. Iwant to feel—really feel—Christmas in my heart.

Cancer deadened my heart to joy in life, because I consciously—or subconsciously—predicted life was not going to be for me. For a Christian, to be frozen or dead to joy is a very tragic thing. We are to be dead to sin, not to joy.

Jesus heals the past

Jesus came to bring light, hope and healing to December and every day. He is not limited by our memories or our disordered brain patterns. He is not affected by our vain imaginings or our depression. He has compassion.

God is sovereign and powerful to accomplish his perfect will. He will win and take us with him.

Let the carols of Christmas be summer in our hearts. May God come with healing in his wings for our bodies and souls.

We are not rocks nor islands, as Simon and Garfunkel sang. We are the body of Christ, rising as one to sing a million hallelujahs at his coming.

Ruth Cook is an educator assistant for an English-as-a-Second-Language class and is a longtime Texas Baptist. This article is adapted from her blog, Faithful God—By My Side, and is republished by permission. The views expressed are those solely of the author.

Disclosure: Cook is a long-time reader and supporter of the Baptist Standard. Publication of this article is not in consideration of that support.