This time of year in Boston can seem endlessly dark. Not depressing, or dire – I mean actually dark.

It is dark when I go to work. It is dark when I return. 

It felt like midnight when I stomped down the pitch black street the other day, though it was probably only about 6pm. As I turned the corner, I was blinded by a gorgeous swirl of color. The church I pass almost every single day hosts a treasured array of Tiffany windows, but somehow I’d never seen them alight from the inside out.

What glories I’ve been passing by, lying in shadow on sunny days. 

Dear ones, our dark seasons can be hard.

But sometimes, maybe,

the dimming of one light allows another to shine forth.