There is a gentle cadence to these darkest days of the year. I would like to linger here for a while.

We tend to little projects around home, and take drives in the short afternoons. We set up a Christmas village in anticipation of grandchildren visiting. We wrap gifts and nibble shortbread cookies.

I sit in the light of the non-traditional trees, and think about the Source of all light. I go into the woman cave, light three candles and scribble lines on a page. I think about choosing a word for 2019.

This morning, I will make a grocery list. This afternoon, I will enjoy a caramel macchiato, laughter, and good conversation; then I will shop for things we need for a Christmas feast. Tomorrow, or next, I will make butter tarts—and sugar cookies, so they’re ready for granddaughter to decorate when she arrives.

Days pass gently, intentionally quiet. There is an abundance of hope, peace, and joy in these sweet weeks of Advent. We wait.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things.

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