seasonal

Advent 2025 ~ Light

Leave a comment

Week 3 — Light

As Winterdark quickly approaches, I am, as ever, drawn to the light. Candlelight, twinkling lights, soft lamps. I want light but not harsh light. Not light that shocks the senses but, rather, I want light that warms you and invites you gently in to sit, rest, stay for a while. Light should gather you in, hold you close, and soothe the jagged, ragged edges caused by stress and anxiety and care.

When I am scared, I turn on the lights. When I am weary-worn, then I sidle up to the softest of it, to the candle flames and twinkling Christmas-tree glow. To the light of nostalgic cartoons and movies that remind me “what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown”.

As we head into the long dark that will give way to the growing day, I pray that you find your light this season—the light that will soothe your soul and warm your weary self. You are ever loved, dear one. May your Winterdark be blest as we bend toward the light.

Advent 2025 ~ Home

Leave a comment

Week 2 ~ Home

As Winter breathes her cold blessing over us, showering us with snow and ice, the silvery white of it makes the dark night glow and spangles the daylight air with diamonds. As beautiful as that all may be, however, there is something that many may consider even more so: the inside of their warm domicile. As winter settles in and makes herself comfortable, we in turn snuggle deeper into our spaces–our apartments, our houses, our homes.

Is it the warmth alone, though, that makes these spaces home? 

This is a question that I recently posed to my middle-school students, my Heroes as I call them: “What makes a place home for you?” The answers I received were very interesting.

For some, home is simply the place they live, the house or city they currently occupy,  the familiar and everyday.

For others, home is someplace else: a camp or a grandparents’ house where they always have a good time.

For others still, home is no one place. Rather, it is anywhere that they feel loved, accepted, and comfortable. Sometimes that home is a person or group of people with whom they can always feel safe and utterly themselves. No need to be perfect or strong or the life of the party. Home is where they can simply be.

That last type of answer is the one that resonates the most for me. I did not learn until I went to college that home for me is not a place. When I went off to school, I came to the realization that, yes, I missed the people that I love, but, no, I did not really miss the area that I had grown up in. And this is still true. There are things about Indiana that I vastly prefer to my Caribbean beginnings, such as the changing of the seasons (and no hurricanes). But, on the whole, I have come to learn that what makes places feel like home is the people that they hold for me. People who love me and whom I love. People who accept me but challenge me in the same turn. People who welcome me with love and laughter and to be fully myself. People who share and encourage my faith. People recognize that, though I choose kindness and softness, I am not a weak flower. I am a being with light under her skin.

Home is where that light glows warm, safe to blaze bright and brilliant. Home is the presence of those who have helped me find and cultivate that light and my sense of self. And I thank God for that every day. Home is a beauty and peace of feeling, of knowing that, with these souls, I matter, am significant, and belong. 

I hope you find your home this Holiday season and are able to rest in its beauty, comfort, and peace.

Advent 2025 ~ Quiet

Leave a comment

Advent 2025

Week 1 ~ Quiet

December is only a week old, and Winter has arrived to wrap her frigid arms around our state. We have had a couple significant snowfalls already, with icy patches still left over from Monday night’s snow. And I am loving every moment of it!

Twenty-five years ago this winter, I discovered that there is no quiet so profound as that of snowfall and a world covered with a fresh, white blanket. I walked my college campus in the fluttery snowfall, astounded at how silent everything had become, no sound except for the crunch of my boots as I made my mark on a fresh, new world. I saw snow for the first time when I was nine years old, but that was all excitement, novelty, and play. I know for a fact that I didn’t appreciate this particularly beautiful aspect of winter at that time. Now, whenever the snow is falling, I try to step out onto the porch or into the doorway to listen as it hushes the world. I listen as it muffles the rush, quiets the hustle, and silences the busyness. We are forced to slow our cars, our steps, our plans. When we slow down, we can also quiet down.

I love the deep emptiness of snowfall-quiet, like the whole world is asleep and I alone am awake to witness its secret beauty. It softens the world, smoothing the rough edges and lines into graceful curves. The snow seems to gentle the harshness, reflecting even the light pollution back into the darkness in a starlight blue so we can see even in what should be the deepest of shadows. And isn’t that what we all need most in this season? Softness and light, gentleness and moments of stillness? Sometimes it makes me wonder if the “silent night” the songwriter describes is not indeed a night of moonlit snowfall.

In that snowy quiet, I am reminded that we are given a gift–the gift of Presence, where we are welcomed into Jesus’s arms and lap. A place of rest, reassurance, and recovery in the hollow of His presence and memory. That silent space where His love softens the edges of existence. As we move further into this Advent and winter season, may we slow down and submerge into the quiet. May we let it soften our moments, calm the crazy, and hold the precious close. Stand in the quiet, sink into the silence, and slow the rush. Maybe snowfall-quiet is here just so we can remember what it means to exist in heavenly peace.

Craving the Change (Again!)

Leave a comment

I have lingered in the longering days and now I am craving again. The meterologists say that it’s our first “false Fall” of the season, with temperatures starting to dip and mellow out. They say it won’t last, but I do not care if it is “false”. Gimme! Give me cooler days and much cooler nights. Give me fall-scented candles and cozy cuddles under blankets. Give me bonfires and fireplaces, flickering warm light in the soonering dark.

I have lingered and now I am craving change. I am craving the season when home becomes more and more the primary locale. I am craving the gathering in and cozying down to prepare for rest in the long dark of winter. I am yearning for the physical trappings of hygge, of shifting the decor of my home into warm sunset colors, tempting aromas, and comfy textures that encourage you to burrow in and snuggle down. I’m excited to add fall touches to my pastel classroom, a new shade of Autumn. I am looking forward to redressing my tree (which has stayed up all year, true to my word) with golds, bronzes, plums, and maroons, for pumpkins, sunflowers, and chrysanthemums to bloom all over my little hobbit hole.

I am itching for the shift, not only in season but in mindset. Autumn is for gathering together, for sharing time, love, smiles, and laughs. I want my home to warm and welcoming, smelling of sweet things that make you want to, yes, linger…stay. I miss and want my dear ones. I miss their hugs, laughs, and snuggles. I want nostalgic movies that we can all quote by heart and know every note of every song. I’m ready to live in my hoodies, bundle in my knits, wrap up in my shawls, and flounce about in my long flannel skirts.

I am ready for change. I am simping for slow. I am craving cozy.

Fall, you are welcome for as long as you want to stay.

Drawn to the Small Light (Advent 2023)

Leave a comment

Several years ago, I began doing weekly writings specifically for Advent, and I really enjoyed what came to feel like a holy practice in the process of it. However, I have not felt led in that direction this year. Instead, I find that I have a deep calling and draw towards candles in this darkening fall and oncoming winter.

I have artificial candles on my porch, on my staircase, on the mantle in the living room, all timed to turn on as the sun goes down. I light real, scented candles as I sit in the living room, filling the downstairs of my house with the aroma of cranberries, apples, and spices and my soul with the peace that accompanies such scents and their attached memories. Even as I grade assessment and essays, I can be wrapped in this sensory comfort of light and scent.

I long for candles’ flicker, giving softening, golden light to a world that is often so very harsh. I want their gentleness, their ability to move with changes in the air. The flames waver and move with the current changes but do not go out unless the air is overly-harsh or forceful. I love a candle’s warmth, its taking-in of oxygen and giving-back of heat.

I love writing with firelight splashing over the pages of my notebook or journal. It feels as though the warmth of the flame is transferred to my pen, making my writing softer, kinder, perhaps more empathetic.

As I move through this Advent and Christmas season, I think I want to be more like a candle flame: giving light, warmth, and comfort where I can. I do not have to blaze and be so big as to be seen by and serve everyone. I can be small and still do good, for myself and others.

I may not reach all of my students, but I may be of comfort and support to one.

I may not get Christmas cards to everyone but I might just send one to someone who deeply needs the reminder that they are cared for.

I may not be able to find the “right” gift, but I may be able to gift my time and attention to a dear one at the right time.

I can be small and still be good. And so can you, Dear Reader. I love seeing your beautiful candle light.

Advent 2020 ~ Surprised by Joy

Leave a comment

Have you been surprised by good things this year? In those moments when we laugh and smile and, for a glorious little while, things feel…normal? The word normal feels like a dangerous one these days, as though we are afraid of it because it might not be graspable, at least not the way we remember it. But, even if normal feels fleeting, joy is still here. Advent is a season of hope, of expectation. What are we expecting, though? We are expecting joy. Whether it be in the transcendent meaning of the Christmas season, the beauty of our homes, neighborhoods, or houses of worship, or the elation of children on Christmas morning, we normally expect joy to come from somewhere. This year, perhaps we are hoping rather than expecting. Perhaps we are praying, pleading, yearning for joy. Romans 15:13 blesses us, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

No matter where we are in our lives this year, joy is still here. It may not be where we expect it to be. Rather joy can be where we choose it to be, where we need it to be.

Joy can be in a child’s thoughtful prayers for others who are suffering or have less than they.

Joy can be in the belly-laugh of your partner, their face bright with a smile.

Joy can be in the wrapping of the perfect gift for a loved one, no matter how simple it may be.

No, Friends, joy may not be where we expect it this year, but it lingers where we need it.

Joy is still here.