I laugh at how many times I have prayed for a sign to let me know that I was on the right path or to help me make a choice. There are so many of these times in recovery. Those difficult moments when I have begged for skywriting or an envelope from God with my name on it. Maybe I watched too many episodes of Mission Impossible growing up, but part of me always wanted instructions from a higher power that would clearly spell out what I should do with my life. 

I know God doesn’t work that way, but I also know I’m not alone in wanting him to. Some people flip coins or watch birds or follow the crude metals index. Others go to Tarot readers, throw the I Ching, or keep psychics in business.

Years ago when people close to me were dying and I tearfully demanded to know God’s will, a friend in my home group, more experienced in grief, chastised and reassured me by saying, “God's will is what is.” That simplicity silenced me for a while.

But I come back again to wanting to know and it’s often at this time of year. There’s a good reason. As the winter begins and we are faced with dark and cold there is a pull from deep in our bones that makes us seek light and answers. 

The need for light at this time of year is so great that we have adapted culturally to give it to ourselves. We have Hanukkah, and Solstice, and Christmas: all stories about finding light. 

The part of the Christmas story that means the most to me is that of the three wise men making their journey, traveling on a hunch, a belief, and their deep wanting. They had studied the sky for years and then they saw their sign. We are told that the star in the east led them to the baby Jesus.

In his poem, Journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot wrote: “At the end we preferred to travel all night, sleeping in snatches, with the voices singing in our ears, that this was all folly.”

Of course that is the problem with star following. You just don’t know. We see this most painfully when looking at the news: stories of young men and women as heroes and others, the same age, who commit terrible crimes. Perhaps all following their stars. But how do you know until you show up whether there’s going to be a baby or a bullet? 

We have to remember that the wise men did more than follow stars. They also packed up their gifts: the gold, frankincense and myrrh, and they gave them. 

So the wise men’s lesson is about faith: We study, we consult with others, we try to be wise men and women, but then we have to get on our camels, bring the gifts and hope we are doing good.

In this week these are our darkest days. There are many scary things in front of us: global warming, scary politics, shootings, and the daily crimes committed against our hearts. 

We cope in the most ancient of ways. We go toward the light--to neon and to the mall just as our ancient relatives were drawn to the stars and the fire.

Through all of this we will read horoscopes and tarot and animal cards and psalms. We’ll hope our loved ones will be spared the only thing that no one can be, which is death. We’ll look at the night sky and try to believe. No wonder a baby born in a barn is a great story. No wonder we look for signs. 

Diane Cameron, Albany New York