Light Pokes Through

November rain didn’t fall on Vancouver Island this year.  At least, not as often as it usually does.

Instead, our days have been cold and clear. 

The nearby trails have been icy instead of muddy.

I’ve needed sunglasses more than a rain jacket.

Those trails have been a lifeline over the last few months.  Our family has experienced two significant health challenges.  In both cases, the worst may be behind us, however, the stress has been significant and ever present.  And it continues.

At the best of times, November darkness and gloom weighs me down.  This November was not the best of times. 

The sunshine couldn’t have come at a better time.

But the days are short, and the sun is low – very low – in the sky.  And that has affected my runs.

I’ve been exploring near our home.  Trails I have never gone down before. Heights I’ve never reached.  Views I’ve never seen.

So often, over the last few weeks, I’ve turned a corner and found sunshine streaming through canopies of green.  Shade surrounds me, yet the light streams through, and, behind it, the sky is as blue as the air is cold.

The light that makes it through is indescribable and special.  It’s ethereal.  Almost holy.

It stops me in my tracks.  I breathe it in. 

And I stop running, pull my beat-up old phone out of my running vest, and take photos which don’t do justice to the beauty of what I’m experiencing.

As is so often the case, I’m writing this on a Sunday morning.  One floor down, my daughter plays her electronic piano and sings ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas.’  I’ve never heard her do that before.  Her singing is more precious to me than the light streaming through the trees.  More precious than anything.

The rain was late but it’s here now.  An ‘atmospheric river’ hammering the island.  The sun won’t be shining through the trees today.

Maybe that’s a good thing.  If it happened every day, it wouldn’t be special.  It wouldn’t be magical.  It wouldn’t remind me that light pokes through.