There are reminders that come back to give some guidance.  "Light griefs can speak; great ones are dumb" -Seneca.  There has been a season now that includes five Advent and Christmas times.  There is a space in this time that won't be named, but that will also not go away or become something else--whatever it is in the first place.  It is a result of radical change.  It doesn't prevent moving forward.  Neither will it be left behind.  Until now it would not even be acknowledged with words.  Its payload has hindered what moving forward could mean.  Now there begins an uneasy nod between it and me.