Symbol Pause

Today we packed up the Christmas decorations. A dried out tree lies in the backyard awaiting its final dismemberment. All the color, every aroma, the rich symbols of advent and incarnation and hope are now cardboard boxes, dust, and fodder for the recycling bin. The glory of the season remains a glory because it does not remain the season. The power of the symbols will revive next year precisely because they were wrapped in newspaper and stashed in the garage this year. We cannot do Advent all year long. Nor Christmas nor Lent nor Easter. All truths all of the time quickly blurs into no truths any of the time. We simply cannot attend to everything always.
As difficult as cleaning up after Christmas is, I smile knowingly when the last ribbon is swept away.