How many years do you need to do something before it becomes tradition?
For the second year running, I got out my bowls and scales on a cold winter afternoon. The blue skies of this morning had disappeared behind heavy grey clouds that promise snow and a few light flakes were blowing around outside the window.
I tied my apron, pulled the ingredients out and went to work, baking the luciabrød, to mark one of the few saints days I am becoming good at remembering.
St Lucia, a woman whose story has been largely lost, truth mingling with legend until who knows what actually happened. There are so many variations, so much sounding like the other saints of the early centuries. But this much I am sure: she was a woman who so astounded people by her life and by her death, that her name was spoken over and over, is still remembered today.
We celebrate her with candles on dark evenings and with soft bread buns made bright yellow with saffron and egg yolks. She is the patron saint of the blind but maybe her story can somehow open eyes again, make sight new. The rumour, however garbled, of her faith, her courage, her confidence in the light she saw.
This is something to celebrate: the perseverance to believe in the light, even when everything about is darkness.
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The dark winter days can make me sad – I’m being intentional this season about looking for the light, finding the positive, noticing the colour and the beauty despite the darkness. Join me? I’m using the hashtag #lightchasers on my tweets and instagrams…
