We can officially call it Christmas now: whatever's been whirring around and nestling in our hearts. We have eaten the feast and set up the trees and as I sit here watching it glow and reflect, there is a relief in reading Advent words and listening to the songs of yearning; the world finally allows me to dance in the glitter of this time of year that normally hides away in my heart (I am a year-round lover of Christmas). The forecast says "snow" and I'm all giddy with the shades still open at 10 pm, on the lookout for any hint of it, because snow is the ultimate accompaniment to Advent. Weathermen predict snow while our baby Savior proclaims purity and forgiveness, promises stains to be blotted out; forecasts the fullness of salvation. Christmas aside, this time of year has always been one of celebration, and the reasons for cake continue to multiply. What started as the birthdays of two brothers, a cousin, and I, has added three more birthdays from my husband'...
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the only hope of fall
October has flown by, along with most of the leaves, but the geese still waddle around the pond close to our home. November settles around us, not radiating like brightness of last month, but subtly, softly glowing. November has a darker backdrop, less leaves; it gives us a beautiful picture of the remnant; November provides us one of the few times that death is visibly stunning, only when it precedes new life. Perhaps if these were the last leaves to ever grow, their brilliant colors would fill us with certain dread and doom. If each tree that joined the ranks of barrenness would never see leaves again, our autumn would fill us with panic. But we know, we have seen the seasons change for decades, reliable as time itself, that life will follow this death. And this is the only factor that allows us to celebrate Autumn in its glory. Oh that I would see the death in my own life with such faith! Each time my plans crumble, or my pride shattered. Ea...