It's 6:30 am and the sky is still dark. 

Only a few days before Christmas arrives. Wanting to start the day with a little quiet time, I find myself in the living room on the couch with only the lights of the Christmas tree to keep me company. I think back to when my four kids were still under this roof. There was a lot more activity in those days leading up to Christmas - more concerts, parties, shopping trips, and admittedly - more chaos. But watching the anticipation and excitement of the wait build in my kids is something I still treasure. We'd open doors on the little Advent calendar hung on the frig, and light the Advent candles as many evenings as we could, counting down the days until Christmas Eve. 

Now that the nest is empty, there's more moments of quiet and calm. I'm learning to appreciate each season of life and the changes that tag along, but I'm savoring the constants as well - like the sky is still dark at 6:30 am on a mid-December morning. And there is still excitement that builds during the wait for Christmas' arrival. 

But waiting isn't always fun and excitement. Sometimes the wait is hard. Sometimes it feels like I'm holding my breath, and worry can sneak into my days - depending on the situation. Waiting for a diagnosis, a job offer, for reconciliation with a loved one . . . we all are waiting for something.  

I think of Mary as she waited for the birth of her baby. I imagine she was filled with anxiety of the unknowns that lay ahead. She must have waited in wonder, that of all the women through all of time, she was carrying God's son. She waited with with joy when her cousin Elizabeth greeted her with great praise. She waited with bravery, willing to take on what God was asking of her - to carry the Messiah as a virgin. She waited filled with peace, placing her trust in God and his promise. 

And while she waited, God was working in her - growing in her. 

This forces me to look in the mirror and examine my own waiting posture. Like Mary, I wait with a mix of emotions - anxiety of the unknown, impatient for an answer and resolution right now. At times I wait in wonder, perplexed at why the answers are so evasive. But there is also peace and contentment in the waiting because I know God is working things out for my good. Even joy finds a place when I focus on the blessings, no matter how small. It's in those moments that I see the wonder of His grace and love. 

Yet the wait can seem long. We wait for Christmas - it always comes. We wait for spring - it always comes. We wait for answers - and the answers always come - not always with the speed and surety that we crave. Sometimes its 'yes', sometimes its a 'no', because there's something different, and maybe even better, that's coming; and other times its 'not yet'. Through it all, I have learned this: in the waiting, God has not forgotten us. He is working behind the scenes, growing in us. He asks that we be still and trust him because He is God and He is good. His love for us is a constant that we can hold on to.

So my prayer for each of you is that you unwrap the gifts of joy and peace as you wait, no matter what you are waiting for. If you are holding your breath and are filled with worry, may you find moments to breathe deeply, to pray, and to be calmed by His presence. May you find contentment, and know that you are growing while you wait. 

And for this week, in these next few days, may your wait be filled with wonder - the wonder of Christmas. May we all see it through the eyes of a child again.

Merry Christmas!​

As she gathered the fallen rotting apples into her skirt, she could feel the presence of danger. She stopped and looked up to see herself surrounded by ten Doberman pinschers staring her down, growling, frothing, ready to attack. She froze in fear and prayed, Lord, let it happen quickly. But it didn't. They didn't move. Then a man's voice "What are you doing here? You are trespassing, and these dogs are trained to kill, but for some reason, they haven't killed you. If I see you here again, I'll kill you myself". 

This was one of the stories Gina Schoenherr, our current Artist-in-Residence, shared with me about her mother. As a young woman with two small children in Germany during the time of the holocaust, her mother lived in fear, darkness, hunger, and dread. She escaped death many times, yet she never lost hope. After living for 5 years in a displacement camp, she brought her two children to a new life in America. 

Stories of courage like this amaze me - the determination of the human spirit, the love of a young mother, and her trust in a God who is faithful. We all have experienced darkness in our lives, maybe not to the extent of Gina and her mom, but we can relate to it in our hearts because we know - we've seen glimpses of darkness and evil. Some of us have endured dark valleys. Some of us may be in one right now. 
 
But darkness doesn't win. Darkness can be the backdrop for the stars in the night sky. Richard Evans said “It is often in the darkest skies that we see the brightest stars.” I believe the way out of darkness is found in a simple word: hope. Hope is the light that shines through the darkness. Hope can sustain us and bring us to a brighter place. 

In her book, All Creation Waits, Gayle Boss writes, "The dark is not an end but the way a new beginning comes.". These days leading to Christmas are known as the season of Advent, which means coming. It is an ancient advent custom to light a candle each night, adding a candle each Sunday, greeting Christmas Eve with four flickering candles. Each candle is a symbol: hope, joy, love, and peace. It's a custom that I look forward to every year - lighting a candle, reading a bit of scripture or a devotion, and singing a verse from a familier Christmas hymn. It helps me prepare. It settles me, calms me, and reminds me of the hope that we have - the One that we wait for. That's the baby in the manger - our savior, Jesus. He's the light that shines in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome him. (John 1:5)

How about you? Where are you right now? If you feel surrounded by darkness, remember that a new beginning is coming and hope is the way through. Join me tonight in lighting a candle of hope. “Look at how a single candle can both defy and define the darkness.”  - Anne Frank

So much truth in those words.
Happy Advent. 

​Amaryllis flowers come in many colors: deep burgundies, pure whites, rich reds, and elegant stripes. There’s even a terra cotta hue with a burgundy throat and white edging each petal. It’s amazing these lovely plants come with such little demands. All they ask is that you enjoy their beauty. Perhaps this is what is meant by the art and soul of winter: to plant hope, see the beauty in this season, and share it with others.  

What a gift of wonder! Who can you share it with?

Learn more about growing Amaryllis here.