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Jupiter and Saturn align across the bayou sky.




December 23, 2020


Now, here I am a few days before Christmas, at a woodsy state park along the coast in Mississippi, on the edge of a bayou. When the breezy gusts of wind blow, brown oak leaves fall and stir up from the ground a noisy stampede that circles for a second or two. Last night, through a tangle of branches I saw Jupiter and Saturn, close together: that we could come together like those planets, as least in our mind’s eye. We are circled by them, our green and golden blue, sandy globe. We, its inhabitants not knowing how to reach across our great divides, fooled by dangerous fools, or God help us, made wise by those who come before us. While all we want is the soft touch of a mother, Mary, to comfort us and bring reverence to our collective unease.

I used to think, in all the confusion of marriage, children, household holiday, right about now, two days before Christmas, that this – let’s just call it work – would soon be over: the wrapping, the baking, the last minute cleaning, ornaments smashed by the cat, a crying child. Soon, something magical will happen, even to me, the orchestrating, sleep deprived and worrying mother.

The gifts we give our children do not come from stores, our shopping expeditions, or Christmas movies, so nostalgic, they mean nothing in the long run. Mary and Joseph weren’t ready. Remember, they were probably hungry; did they have an oven to bake ginger cookies? I don’t think so. What makes us feel connected to another’s story, the foods?

We forget we celebrate a birth. The tiniest given, a light, a beacon, a reason for hope; we mustn’t lose that.

If I gave birth to twins today, I’d name them Jupiter and Saturn. Their coming together has never been so timely, nor so sweet, so needed. Already they are moving apart. Let us keep that light within our hearts, encircled by shepherd stars, let us be the guardians of our most precious planet, and of one another.

My young friend, Frances, waits now for her new child to be born, as she mourns the one she lost. “I had to get pregnant again,” she whispers, “I never knew I could be so hungry for something.”

The body knows; perhaps we are more primitive than we think. How do we deal with loss? Who sits with us when there is silence, when once words came so easily? When pleasures are simple, comfort comes with a cup of tea. Beside me your hand grasps another piece of the puzzle while cookie crumbs fall from your sweater. Alone now, I say into the dark winter afternoon, I am alone now.

And just as that thought spills into my mind, just as quickly it flees. I am surrounded with love, my dear family and friends. I have only to conjure you in my mind than joy fills my heart and I can hear your laughter and see your bright face. We look together into the night’s starry sky. Its planets bright, keep moving. How fortunate we are.


Some say that ever ‘gainst that season comes

Wherein our Saviour’s birth is celebrated,

This bird of dawning singeth all night long;

And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,

The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm,

So hallow’d and so gracious is the time.


Marcellus to Horatio and Bernardo, after seeing the Ghost, Hamlet, Act I, scene I



With special thanks to extraordinary parents, Stanley and Evelyn Baker, who shared their love of nature and the wonders of the night sky.


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