Lightwatch Night

Old Finn looked out of his window and up at the sky. The sun had set. Night had fallen. It was Lightwatch Night. He smiled to himself. Surely, it wouldn’t be long now.

As if on cue, a small hand reached up and tugged at the sleeve of his coat. It was Edee, of course, the smallest of the three grubbins – who were called grubbins because they were old enough to roam around on their own, but little enough to get into absolutely every kind of mess that they could. Grubbins was the only proper word for the three of them.

Edee was the youngest. Only a week ago, the little lass had finally shown that she was old enough to take part in tonight’s ceremony by carrying a cup of water across the room without spilling a drop. True, her face had been screwed up in concentration and there had been several close calls, but she had done it.

Now she looked up at him with her large brown eyes aglow with anticipation. He smiled down at her. She reminded him so much of how her mother – his daughter – had looked at that age. Like her mother, Edee bubbled over with excitement for Lightwatch Night. Her first one!

“And may it be the first of many,” he silently prayed as he lifted her up and set her on the windowsill before him. Not to be outdone by her, the other two grubbins – her cousins – at once demanded to be lifted to the window as well. He bent down, and, in a flash, the twins – Tad and Tip –were seated beside her on the worn stone surface of the sill. All three began kicking their small, soft heels against its storm-worn smoothness.

Old Finn took his place beside them, and he and the three Grubbins looked out into the velvety dusk.

“We watch for the light,” he whispered.

“We watch for da light,” echoed three young voices.

They sat there in silence at the beginning of the longest and darkest night of the year. Lightwatch Night. Four faces – one old and three young – looked with eager eyes for the first star.

“There it is!” Edee sang out.

Finn squinted to look where her chubby hand was pointing.

Yes, indeed. There it was. The first star. He reached backwards and felt someone in the large bustling room behind him pass him an unlit lamp. He set the lamp on the windowsill. Then, reaching into his jacket, he brought out one of his treasures. A salamander – his pocket-dragon. The little object nestled in his hand, cunningly-wrought of warm metal, and he stroked its throat. At his touch, it sparked, and then a little jet of flame shot forth. Quickly, Finn lit the lamp. The little grubbins had seen his salamander many times before, and they paid it no heed. Their eyes, large in their small faces, were locked on the flame of the lamp.

“We welcome the light among us,” Finn said.

‘We welcome da light hummongus,” they tried to repeat.

Finn set the three of them down on the warm flagstones. Then, he handed the lighted lamp to little Edee. Flanked by her honor-guards, Tad and Tip, she carefully carried it to a low circular table in the middle of the room. Once there, she placed it down with barely a wobble. All three grubbins bowed to the light, took their seats on the floor around the table, and began to earnestly watch the flickering dancing of the lamp-flame.

Old Finn took the seat beside little Edee.

Then, in a low, serious voice, he asked her, “Are you the youngest lass here tonight?”

Without taking her eyes from the flame, Edee nodded with confident self-importance.

Finn went on, “Well then, as the oldest lad here tonight, I will tell you the tale of the Lightwatch and of the things that we remember upon this night.”

At these familiar words, throughout the room, there were sounds of murmuring and shuffling as the rest of the family, older children, young lads and lasses, tired-eyed parents, and Finn’s own wife, Ryll, all settled themselves in various corners and shadows. All knew this story. Finn, himself, had told it dozens of times around scores of other lamps across decades of long, long nights.

Yet, the story still stirred within him, as if it were waiting to be told.

At first, he sat in silence, letting the story build.

Then, at last, he spoke.

* * * * *

“This is a story that was first told to our folk in the bygone years by the Lost King. Long, long ago and far, far away, the Maker spoke a world into being. It was a very good world, and in this good world dwelt the first lad and the first lass. They were happy and they wanted for nothing and the Maker himself would come to walk and talk with them. Their days were bright and their nights were full of the light of the moon and the stars.”

“Were there storms?” asked Tad in a small voice, “I’m scared of storms, sometimes.”

Old Finn ruffled the hair between Tad’s ears and smiled, “No, there were no storms, nor anything at all to fear. In those days, the Breaker hadn’t come. All was very good.”

Finn’s voice grew sad, “But it didn’t stay that way. For the Breaker did come. It tricked the lad and lass, and they betrayed the Maker. They themselves turned and became twisted. Then – ashamed and afraid – they fled from the light. They hid themselves in darkness.”

“Always?” asked Edee.

“No, not always. You see, the Maker went and found them.”

“Was he mad?” asked Tip, who had himself been in trouble earlier that day for upsetting a platter of cooling berry-muffins.

Finn sighed, “No. But he couldn’t overlook what they had done. Their choices mattered. After what they’d done, the Maker knew that they couldn’t face him. Not while they had become twisted, for his light would blind them and his warmth would burn them. Because of that, He sent the lad and lass away. But he sent them with gifts, and before they went, he promised that one day, he would put all things right.”

“Why couldn’t he do it right away?” Edee wondered, glancing up at him for just a moment before locking her eyes on the dancing flame once more.

Old Finn smiled. He’d wondered the same thing when he’d first heard the story. Only now, after many long years, did he think he could begin to understand the answer. But he wasn’t sure he could make Edee understand. Instead of answering her, he turned toward Tip.

“Tip, laddo, when you knocked over that plate of muffins earlier, what happened?”

Tip shifted uneasily, but answered truthfully, “Dey smash onna floor.”

As he said this, he flung his arms wide apart as if to indicate the extent of the destruction.

Finn nodded, “And what did you and Momma do?”

Tip looked up proudly, “We made more!” Now he described a wide arc with his little arm, “Lots more.”

Then, in a voice that sounded tired, he said, “But it taked a long time.”

Now Finn looked back at little Edee, “Sometimes, it takes a long time to fix things, especially when they are really badly broken. The lad and lass had made a big mess. Everything that had once been good in that world became terrible. The light was changed into darkness. All that had once been good was ruined. It would take something amazing to fix it.”

“The Breaker ruins everything,” Tad muttered.

“He sure tried,” Finn agreed, “And things got worse and worse, not better. At first, the folk of that world tried to listen for the Maker’s voice. But they hoped they could put things right themselves. But since they were broken and they were twisted, they couldn’t fix themselves. Centuries passed, and the people became twisted up tighter and tighter inside. They couldn’t hear the Maker. Finally, they stopped listening altogether.”

The silence grew in the room. The flame flickered in the lamp. The grubbins held their breath, waiting to hear what would happen next.

Then Old Finn spoke in hushed tones, “But that couldn’t stop the Maker. He had promised that he would put things right. So, he did the amazing. He did the impossible.”

Finn whispered, “The Maker made himself.”

He raised his voice, building as he spoke, letting the wonder spill out of him, “The Author entered his own story, becoming a part of the world his own words had spoken into being. The Light stormed into the darkness.”

“As a baby,” said Edee, matter-of-factly.

Old Finn nodded.

“Yes, lass. As a baby. But not as an expected baby. Why, when he was born, his mother was on a long journey. When the time came, there was no place for her to rest. And so, as it happened, the Maker was born far from home, and almost no one in that darkened world even knew that he had come to dwell among them.”

“But not for long!” exclaimed Tad, “I’ll bet he told them. He went right up to the biggest of them and said, ‘I’m here!’”

Old Finn chuckled, “He surely did tell them. But he didn’t tell the big people or the important people first. You see, there were folk living out in the fields beyond the town where the baby was born. They were ordinary people who were just looking after their beasts. Their job was to keep their flocks safe at night. I’m sure that they thought that all they had to worry about were hootroars or quillkits. I’m sure that they never ever expected to see what they saw that night!”

“What did they see?” asked Tad, “A horror?”

“No,” Finn said, “They saw a wonder!”

He pointed out of the window at the dark night, saying, “You see, just as they were all settled down, the dark sky above them burst into light. Just then, a messenger of Heaven appeared. They were so frightened and surprised, but he told them not to be afraid. He told them to rejoice, for light had come into their darkness, and the baby had been born to rescue them! Then, just when they had gotten used to that, and before they knew what was happening, the one messenger was joined by many, many others. Then all of the messenger started singing together for joy. And then, in a flash, they were all gone.”

“What did they do next?” asked Tip.

Finn chuckled, “What do you think? They went to find the baby!”

“Did they find him?” asked Edee as she put her small hand on his.

Finn covered her hand with his and smiled, saying, “They did. And they kept watch over him all through the long night.”

“What about the star?” asked Tad.

Finn turned to him, “Oh, so you’ve heard about the star, have you?”

Tad nodded proudly.

Finn looked out of the open window once more at the starry night sky.

“Well, you’re right, there was a star. A beautiful star. It appeared in the sky when he arrived and it marked the place where he lived. Mages saw it, and they followed it across the world. After a long time, the star led them to where they could find the child. When they found him, they gave him gifts, even though he, himself, was the real gift!”

“Is that why we give Lightwatch presents?” asked Edee.

“It’s one reason, yes,” said Finn, “But, remember, we don’t give presents until morning. Tonight, we keep watch.”

“Why?” asked Tip.

“To remember. We all get busy and might forget. So, every year, on the longest night of the year, when it seems like the darkness might finally swallow up everything, we all come together and watch for the first light. You see, we know it will come. Then, when it does, we welcome it and make a place for it among us.”

Three little heads watched the dancing lamp-flame.

Old Finn chuckled, “Watch as long as you can, but soon, your eyelids will grow heavy and you’ll fall asleep. Don’t worry. Your big brothers and your sisters and cousins and your mommas and dads and uncles and aunties, and even your gram and I will take turns protecting the light and keeping watch all through this longest night. Then, in the morning, when the sun rises, we will all awake and feast and pass on the light.”

He quizzed them, “What is it that we sing on Lightwatch Night?”

Three little voices chorused,

Watch for the light, welcome the light

Protect the light, pass on the light

Finn nodded, “Just so. And we also pass along this story. Together, we remember what the Maker did long, long ago and far, far away. Light has come. That is what we watch for, welcome, protect, and pass along each year at Lightwatch. And now, it’s time for you to go to bed.”

With soft grumbles, the three heavy-eyed grubbins slowly obeyed. Then, as their mothers helped them to their beds, Old Finn called after them, “Sleep well dear ones, and dream of tomorrow morning, when the light will come at last as the fullness of day.”

Watch for the Light

                   C                                     Em  

Watch for the Light … When darkness closes in

                  Am                                   Em          G

Watch for the Light … When hope and faith wear thin

                  C2                                G

Watch for the Light … Merry and marvelous!

                  Am                            G           C

Watch for the Light … That it may come to us

Welcome the Light … And make a place for it

Welcome the Light … We share our home with it

Welcome the Light … Let it find joy in us

Welcome the Light … That it may stay with us

Protect the Light … From shame and frightful dark

Protect the Light … From hate and fearful dark

Protect the Light … Let it find rest with us

Protect the Light … That it may grow in us

Pass on the Light … To those who walk alone

Pass on the Light … To those who weep or groan

Pass on the Light … To all who need its rest

Pass on the Light … And may our days be blessed

Note: This traditional burl song is sung to pass the time during the long hours of Lightwatch. The children sing the first part of each line, and the adults sing the last part of each line. Some sing it in parts and in rounds, letting the words and volume build and grow as the song unfolds. Burl singing is considered remarkably fine, especially on long cold night around the fire.