I had a gloriously restful Thanksgiving with my family. I had time to do crafty things, think of ideas for my classroom, make some tentative Christmas plans. Yesterday the skies were dark and I returned to work and sense of heaviness and doom. No idea why.
I felt tired and disoriented. Perhaps the change in the light has sapped my strength. This is the time of year that usually happens. It catches me by surprise every time.
This year it is worse though. Like fellow-blogger Heather Kirk-Davidoff I am still grieving after the election. She writes:
On November 13th, the Sunday after the election, our usually animated congregation was almost silent as we gathered for worship. It felt like someone--or something--had died. People have told me about struggling to get out of bed. People have called me in tears over all that has happened.
It's a dark time of year. And for some of us the darkness is especially more pronounced right now. Values and rights I care deeply about are on the chopping block. Whole groups of people are dismissed as less valuable. Dreams I had for my daughters' futures are crumbling.
I know some very good people who are energized to rage against the dying of the light. I wish I had that in me right now. But all I've got is just enough to get me through, if that. I'll go to school today and take care of seven little people who trust me to make the world okay for them. We'll practice our song for the December program.
This little light of mine,
I'm going to let it shine.
Rather ironic, you think?
I felt tired and disoriented. Perhaps the change in the light has sapped my strength. This is the time of year that usually happens. It catches me by surprise every time.
This year it is worse though. Like fellow-blogger Heather Kirk-Davidoff I am still grieving after the election. She writes:
On November 13th, the Sunday after the election, our usually animated congregation was almost silent as we gathered for worship. It felt like someone--or something--had died. People have told me about struggling to get out of bed. People have called me in tears over all that has happened.
It's a dark time of year. And for some of us the darkness is especially more pronounced right now. Values and rights I care deeply about are on the chopping block. Whole groups of people are dismissed as less valuable. Dreams I had for my daughters' futures are crumbling.
I know some very good people who are energized to rage against the dying of the light. I wish I had that in me right now. But all I've got is just enough to get me through, if that. I'll go to school today and take care of seven little people who trust me to make the world okay for them. We'll practice our song for the December program.
This little light of mine,
I'm going to let it shine.
Rather ironic, you think?
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