THE LONGEST DAY. LET US REJOICE

 

Today is our longest day.  Every summer since the earth began to turn and the sun began to shine we have had our longest day and then, in December, our longest night.  In the southern hemisphere, where our friend Peter lives, today is his shortest day and in December will be his shortest night.  He is tucking in early while we stretch with the hours of extra light.  For friends vacationing in Iceland this week, the sun sets at 1 a.m. and rises at 2--one brief hour of twilight.  The warmth of sun and the chill of the moon, equally embraceable. 

Now I catch myself--why did I say "our" and "his"?  The summer solstice isn't mine.  Even the few acres of meadow and woods that have my name on the title in the local register of deeds don't belong to me.  How could a 100-year-old shaggy bark hickory be mine? It has its own history, its own future. How could the boulders of the Triassic Basin that hunker down in my yard belong to naught but the ages?  Or the grove of beeches?  We are care-takers with fiduciary duties to our progeny for generations to come. Almost everything that matters predates us and lives on beyond our passing.  The psalmist says, "So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom." Psalm 90:12.

But then I think again.  Today is ours, isn't it?  

We have on average just under 29,000 days on earth. This may seem like many or or it may seem like few. But each of them is ours.  I'm spending my summer solstice day at the coast, as luck would have it.  The sun doesn't set in the ocean this time of year, but the sunset will be late and brilliant, the way it is on a mostly cloudless day.  Otherwise nothing special.  Maybe a bike ride or fresh-caught fish for supper; my husband is out now with rod and reel.  Most years we are at home, but one special anniversary year we were in Fairbanks, Alaska.  A little dusk and then the sun reappeared. 

The psalmist also says, "This is the day that the Lord hath made.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it."  Psalm 118:24.  That's so easy on a day like today.  Some days I'm pessimistic.  Aren't we all?  Some days we feel frail and tattered from the news, or a dreaded doctor's appointment, or one of those things that can crack a heart.  But today the light sings without ceasing, telling us that the day is blessed because it is the one we have.  Dear God, help me remember this tomorrow.  

Nina Naomi