Unifier » March 2002 » A Festival of Winter

December 21, 2001 — Winter Solstice

by Lorraine Redman

My first knowledge of Winter Solstice comes from the book: Night Tree by Eve Bunting. Each winter we read this book aloud. It inspires us to find our own Night Tree for our family to celebrate --joyfully sharing the true spirit of Christmas. We spend many a relaxing afternoon and evening stringing popcorn and cranberries, collecting pine cones and rolling them in peanut butter and bird seed. Our tree always looks so pretty.

From Ancient times, the solstices and equinoxes that quarter the year have each been celebrated as a culmination of part of the sun's journey. Folk customs indicate the general feeling that these were critical moments of transition, that the natural forces of the heavens alone might not meet the needs of the time, and that therefore the support and involvement of earthly communities should be invoked. This year our Night Tree was celebrated in a much larger family; the Kaiserslautern Fellowship and EUU friends that came from as far away as Prague and Paris!

The weather was perfect for our Festival of Winter. The forest and the evergreens were blanketed in snow. We walked, slid, and sledded to the special Night Tree of the Keating family. With much cheer, we hung our popcorn chains, dried fruit, using a ladder and our throwing skills to reach the upper branches, warming ourselves with hot drinks in thermoses and cold spirits that warmed us anyway. Then we gathered around our tree, all decorated for the animals. Wendy Schwartz, the EUU president, read to us a message from Rev. William Sinkford.

As night fell, John Keating lit the first candle from the Kaiserslautern new 2002 Chalice Candle and from there we passed the light from candle to candle all around the circle, sharing our Joys and Concerns. As we sang the Unitarian Christmas carol, It Came Upon a Midnight Clear in the candle light, I noticed the crescent moon over our shoulders. We gathered our things and I looked back once. Our tree looked so pretty. Abby and Jim were tired and Steve and I pulled them on the sleds. We headed back in candlelight procession to Elizabeth's and John's, visions of the roaring fire and cups of hot soup lighting our minds and hearts as the wind snuffed out our candles at the bottom of the hill.

Later, in bed, I thought about our tree (and the green olive soup), and some times, next day, when it was noisy and happy, I let my mind go back to the forest (and the green olive soup). I thought of the birds, deer, and boar having Christmas Dinner.