Lights & Advent

The precise electrical term for my outdoor Christmas lights is "iffy."

Sometimes they shine. Sometimes they don't.

Here's what I do with Christmas lights at our house: I bought long strands of Christmas light sockets that hold the "big" bulps like we used to light Christmas trees back when I was a kid. And I bought wire stakes that hold the lights at intervals along the rock border of our flowerbeds across the front and down the street side of our house. Every year on Thanksgiving weekend, I string the lights and turn them on each night.

Light-bright Christmas yard

Some people string lights along the rooflines of their houses. I do not. Some of my friends think I won't string lights on my roof because I'm afraid of heights. This is not true. I won't string lights on my roof because I'm afraid of falling from heights. This is a big difference. If I owned a cherry-picker, I would put lights on the roof. But since I've got a rickety aluminum extension ladder and an eight-foot stepladder and neither will get me comfortably everywhere I need to go, I prefer not to spend the Advent/Christmas season—and possibly part of the New Year—in traction. 

So, I've taken the lights-close-to-the-ground route for several years.

And they're beautiful. My light strings feature alternating red and clear bulbs. Given my tendency toward obsessive-compulsive behavior, you can bet they're set at precisely the same height and at precisely the same one-foot intervals. And you won't see a burned-out bulb in the bunch, at least for more than one night.

Lights out

Except when they don't shine altogether.

And that's when my Christmas lights remind me of my Advent behavior.

The lights fail when they get wet. Mostly, that's when we get rain. Or, in the case of last Sunday, when Joanna tells me to fertilize the pansies, and I actually sprayed water on the lights myself.

When the bulbs get wet, the lights come on—for about 15 seconds. And then they short out, and the shock-fault interrupter pops out in the main electrical plug in the garage. And we don't have lights that night.

Like I said, the lights work most nights. And when they come on, they're gorgeous and festive and cast our yard in a shimmering Christmasy glow. But when they're wet, it's a no-go.

Steady source of power

The water in the lights reminds me of the busy-ness and distractions of this season. When I get caught up in (a) all the fussiness and frenetic activity of getting ready for Christmas or in (b) the rush of getting all the end-of-year activities done at work, it's like rain in the  sockets of my soul. I fizzle and pop, and the lights go out.

What my lights and I both need is a dry connection to the source. I'm not a good-enough electrician to figure out how to rain-proof my Christmas lights. But with a bit of calendar tweaking and time management, I can take care of my soul during Advent and Christmas. 

And since I don't have to go up on the roof to light Advent candles, I should be good to go.