Ah,  I know I’m not alone in battling a Christmas hangover.

Many of us have already visited malls to manage gift returns and take advantage of blow-out sales.  Some have dragged their needle-shedding trees from their stands, tied them to car roofs, and have driven them to designated tree recycling spots.

Some of us, especially those with artificial trees, heavily decorated with ornaments and lights, want to keep their living rooms in holiday mode for one more week.

We take special relish in watching the glow of the strung lights next to the quiet glow of our television screens, now that the tree skirt is empty, after the wrapped gifts have been taken and ripped open in frenzies.  (Amazing to think that evidence of weeks of shopping and hours of wrapping can melt away in minutes.)

My silent night – my holy light of contemplation – actually came a few days after Christmas.

The silence was inside of me.  The night atmosphere was actually filled with the smells of hot cocoa and squeals of delight from children.

I went to ZooLights Friday night, a yearly tradition of incredible light displays at the Lincoln Park Zoo, one of the oldest, and I think, one of the largest, free zoos in the country.

Deciding to take advantage of the reasonable winter weather (for Chicago, only being in the 30s in late December is a welcome blessing), a friend and I bundled up, drove to the zoo at dusk, and walked through the winter wonderland.

The wonder part was largely man-made but was captivating nonetheless.

The various zoo exhibits, such as the ape house and aviary, were open.  Seals were frolicking in the indoor-outdoor pool which they call home.  Vendors in kiosks and the main cafeteria were doing a brisk business selling hot dogs and warm drinks.

The park’s 35 acres were filled with colorful light displays, one more mesmerizing than the last.  Holiday and season inspired music blared out from speakers.  Families and children of all ages, in their boots and hooded jackets, enjoyed their walks, lingering in some spots to take selfies.

There were interesting demonstrations.  There was an ice sculpture stage near the main entrance.  A man with some sort of electric saw cut out a reindeer, then a snowman, from blocks of ice.

I found myself laughing at JINGLE JOHNS, a series of four blue port-a-potty structures, decorated with lights, featuring cartoonish cat faces lighting up in sequence to lyrics from the classic song, “It’s fun to stay at the YMCA…”

But I became very quiet when I followed the path to the back of the park.  I was not awed so much by the artistry of the light display, although the display of Santa with reindeer and sled was nicely done.

I was silenced by the location of what I saw.

The illuminated Santa and reindeer was right in front of the zoo’s famous endangered species carousel.  It features artisan-crafted animals that represent rare or endangered species.

What a reminder of the gifts we’ve been given – the beauty and diversity of nature!

What a responsibility we all share to be good stewards of the earth.

Yes, I enjoyed the light displays, and I recognize that they consumed a lot of energy, but I was surprised by the strength and clarity of the message I received.  I was moved by the silence that came up from inside me.

When I noticed things becoming very quiet inside of me, I knew I had to pay attention.

I was struck by what I took in, about the call I felt to be grateful about the gift of life and to do my best to pass on this legacy to future generations.

Getting quiet inside so that I can be open and mindful in my choices is no small thing.