In the silence of a midwinter dusk there is far off in the deeps of it somewhere a sound so faint that for all you can tell it may be only the sound of the silence itself. You hold your breath to listen. . . For a second you catch a whiff in the air of some fragrance that reminds you of a place you’ve never been and a time you have no words for. You are aware of the beating of your heart. The extraordinary thing that is about to happen is matched only by the extraordinary moment just before it happens. Advent is the name of that moment.

Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark

The dark invites times of quiet reflection and, in this season of waiting, a return to stillness.

Lights on non-traditional trees Invite us to remember the Light who came into the world, the same one we are waiting upon. It is the sweetest of mysteries.

We draw away from the endless din and, instead, lean softly in to the Divine.

We want for nothing else. In awe, 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 and the thin places where faith intersects.

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