It all started in Italy. At least, that’s what I’m told, that a saint called Lucia existed. How she got to be known in Sweden is unsure, but she came anyway and is now the symbol of one of our most important holidays. Since there is no light (as I have mentioned numerous times, but I’m serious, it’s just disappeared) any light source we find lifts our spirits. When I was a child and celebrated this with my brothers, I just thought it was cool. Now, I notice how necessary it truly is to celebrate Santa Lucia.

Early morning, on each 13 of December, in churches, in homes and in offices and schools later in the day, the celebration begins with light. The tradition is that the oldest girl in the family, followed by her brothers and sisters, wearing the same kind of nightgowns and holding candles in their hands, brings breakfast to her parents. She is wearing a white nightgown, a red sash and a crown of candles on her head. It symbolizes that Lucia is bringing light to others on what is supposed to be the darkest day of the year. Schools choose a Lucia out of a group of girls, and the rest follow her. The boys wear a pointed hat with stars on it and the same kind of gown.

I know what you’re thinking: Those Swedes have the weirdest traditions; or, that’s gotta be a fire hazard; or, pointed hats? That’s not dangerous? You could poke an eye out! It’s not, however, and the tradition gets better when you learn that they sing a song as they come into the church building (or wherever they are) and it’s soft and lovely and tells of lighting up the winter darkness.

My grandparents in Sweden would always record the Saint Lucia procession in the church and send it to us; my mom and I and usually my brother (when we were younger) would get up early in the morning (the only ones who had the energy and the only ones who had time) and watch the tape. I remember the songs and the soft light of candles in the dark.

“Lucia” would arrive in a horse-drawn carriage outside the church. She comes inside, someone lights the candles on her head and the candles the girls and guys behind her are carrying. They form a line and enter the church singing “Santa Lucia” to the ones that have gotten up early to see them. It forms a line of white, light and song on a gloomy day. Like I said, I always thought this tradition was just fun and tried to take the day off from school at home (I read once, in the school policies or something, that if a family has special traditions related to their heritage they have the opportunity to take that day off from school), but my mother insisted that I go. “Even the kids in Sweden go to school on those days,” she always said. So I went.

When we were younger my brother, Jakob, and I (I was going to write, “As kids, my brother and I…” but then I’d get all these “You’re still a kid” comments…) would dress up in the white gowns and presented this interesting display for my classmates every year until eighth grade. It was at that time I realized that no one was really interested in it. All the kids I did it for had seen it at least four years in a row since kids of the same age stick together throughout schools, and my classmates rarely had new faces. During my Freshman year, when I was the craziest, I dressed up in the outfit for Saint Lucia and walked around all day with slips of paper about Saint Lucia in case people looked at me funny. (People did look at me funny. I ran out of papers.) I’ve always been so proud of my heritage, even if it was a little too proud.

This year I’m a part of the choir in school and they’re in charge of presenting Lucia for the rest of the school. We chose our Lucia and presented it for the school. Every one in the audience shows that they appreciate it; it’s in their eyes. Their eyes glitter with our reflections and their smiles falter as they silently sing along with us. It is special, this holiday, and I respect it more now than I could have at home.

Glad Santa Lucia!

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Address: Angelika Guy, Huginvgen 12, SE- 715 31 Odensbacken, SW