Beginnings

Happy New Year’s Eve! I wonder how you are doing in these strange, limbo, off kilter in-between days – where the festive fanfare and anticipation of Christmas is fading and a new year of the unknown looms large? Where the once joyful, nostalgia of a decorated mantle, fragrant lit-up tree and Christmas music begins to grate just a touch because it’s lost the excitement and build up of emotions that only the holidays bring us…

It’s a strange and uncomfortable feeling each year. I never quite know what to do with it or what space to give it. What does it want from us and how do we reconcile and allow the deflated feelings of loss, nostalgia, let down and possibly regret co-mingle with the wonder, anticipation, and adventure of a brand-new year?

I am not one for making new year’s resolutions. I have new things I want to explore in this new season of life as an empty nester and some habits I’d like to redirect. I have plans for a second book, setting healthy boundaries in my relationships, meeting new people and some volunteering. All good things. There are specific words that over the past few weeks consistently pop into my mind. Change. Flexible. Gentle. Trust.

I am choosing to give these words space and permission to enter into 2023 with me. It isn’t easy. I want to know all the who, what, where, when, why and how. I like to rehearse, plan, and plot it out because that is what I usually do. It’s my M.O. It gives the façade of safety, but if I’m honest, it is based in fear and worry.

These words – change, flexible, gentle, trust – are not words I associate with myself – often quite the opposite. However, this year they fill me with curiosity and a sense of adventure; a sense of awe because I know that Jesus is standing at the threshold of my 2023. His scarred hands reaching for mine asking me to let go of regret, worry, expectations (especially of myself) and control. I’m being asked to trust Him with all that I see coming, all the worst-case scenarios that my mind likes to create, all the what-ifs and futile attempts to fix, control, and protect. He’s asking me to trust Him with myself and my loved ones.

Do I truly believe He has plans to prosper and not to harm, plans for hope and a future that is good, safe, and exactly what is needed? Yes, I do believe that. I want to learn to stop trusting in my own short-sighted understanding and in all ways acknowledge that He will direct my path and my family’s path. Will this be easy and trial free? No, life is hard, and things happen. Will I never allow worry, a stray wild thought, fear, or the need to control overwhelm me and set me back a bit? No. I won’t do this perfectly, but I will try to be gentle with my soul. Will I feel all the feels that go with living in this world and bumping up against others? Yes.

My hope for this year is that when situations and feelings knock at my heart’s door, I will learn to give them space, sit with them, and see them (yell at them, if needed) allowing them to teach me and letting them go into His hands.

I will pray this scripture over myself and my family in 2023 and wait in anticipation to see prayers answered, paths straightened, fear bow at His name, joy restored and peace to have room to heal and calm my heart. And rest, blessed rest.

Isaiah 61:3 NIV

“…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.”

“For 2023, may God help us all fast regrets and cease dragging old, dead things with us into the new, abundant life that Jesus’ birth, death, and resurrection made possible.” Dr. Alicia Britt Chole

December Moon

The December night is dark and deep, stillness and chill seeping into bones despite the layering of coat, scarf, hat, gloves, and thick soled boots.

Footfall is muffled and shushed along the pine strewn path, boots stirring up the ancient scent of the woods and winter shrouded earth.

The hush of the forest has a particular sound – not truly silent to the careful observer, but full of the rustle, scurry, and purpose of those living in the night. Frigid air gives their purpose a new vigor with warm dens and beds of fern, pine needles and forest detritus waiting to give shelter.

Deep, full inhalations fill lungs to the brim with invigorating, life giving air. Oddly, the heavy chill, though it burns and startles, offers peace and affirmation of knowing one is alive and well. Sometimes it takes the cloak of a dark, wintry, forest-y night to bring clarity to the chaos and exposure of living in the light.

Rounding the curve in the path, the stillness of the pond with the shimmery moon-glow trail on the dark water is breathtaking. A path of light and love painted on the water by the brush strokes of One who loves to bring awe, redemption, and delight. Loved. Seen. Safe.

The sound of stealthy prowling comes from the edge of the pond as a night hunter shifts and waits for dinner. Circle of life.

Moving along as the chill ever deepens, the hooting of an owl adds to the frosty night noises – haunting and lovely it is primitive and wild.

The path around the pond circles back on itself and my boots head back to the cabin. Thoughts of the cheerful fire in the firepit on the deck and the warm sherpa blanket urge me onward at a brisker pace.

Wrapped in the cozy blanket, Irish coffee in the large Christmas mug warms my cold hands; steam rising merrily as the fire mesmerizes.

A scrabbling, crunchy noise interrupts my reveries as a creature moves about to the left of the deck, digging through pine needles and foliage for a midnight snack. Curious glowing eyes spy on me. The shadowy outline of a fat raccoon in the faint reach of the firelight watches me until curiosity wans and she moves along.

Leaning back in the deck chair the stars appear strewn about like so much glitter landing at random points. But nothing is truly random. The night sky is beautifully planned and decorated with patterns and puzzles of light created to lead the ancient traveler.

Frosty breath wafts up as if making its way to the austere moon that guides, watches and travels the night sky. Fascinating to imagine all the eyes that have looked up in the night for navigation and a sense of constancy in a world that doesn’t always appear that way. A balm to lonely souls, the shining beacon of light makes things feel safer and less chaotic.

The shepherds on that holy and silent night looked up into the same chilled, star filled sky that I see on my deck as the fire glows and snickers to itself. The same moon watched on as the Holy One became man, as angelic hosts filled the still and starry night with the most awe-inspiring, stunning display of power and love that humankind has ever known.

It is not by happenstance that eyes are drawn upward – seeking wisdom, direction, meaning; safety, love and blessed peace.

From a cold and silent winter night, filled with moonlight and stars came the Light of the world.  A Divine exchange between Creator and creation. Ultimate gift. Unconditional love. Emmanuel.

Warm bed beckons and I head inside, mind full of awe as I struggle to comprehend the enormity of the gift humanity was given on that night so long ago.

The old wood stove burns quiet, drowsy warmth. I curl up under quilts and comforters as the light of the moon gently glows through the snug window. Thoughts of angels, joy and eternity soothe and calm into restful sleep – a silent and holy night where all is calm and bright under a December moon.

The Winter Village

A crescent ray of filtered sunlight peeps in through the upstairs bedroom window.

Languid, lazy stretches; it’s cozy under the heavy heirloom quilt. I doze a bit longer enjoying the peace and quiet until the calico cat frisks and pounces on my moving foot, forcing me to get up and begin the day.

Soft, fluffy slipper socks wait next to the pine wood nightstand. Quilt-warmed feet are toasty padding down the narrow stair, the familiar creak at the fifth step from the bottom is comforting.

Snow!

A light snow has fallen in the night coating the garden and the stone fence with a sparkly spunkiness that beckons a walk to the village.

But first, coffee!

The warm, comforting coffee-scent permeates the chilly kitchen. Crispy bacon on toast sounds delicious this snow-bright morning – just enough until I make my way to Penny’s Pastries in the village square.

The watery sunlight filtering through the slowly building clouds begs for knee-high snow boots, the puffed navy-blue snow jacket and thick, red tartan scarf, navy gloves, and a beanie. Festive and snug!

The fluffy white cat lounges in his cardboard box bed on the end of the couch, watching sleepily as I don my winter apparel. He is quite happy to lie about for the morning, nestled down on the red fleece blanket tucked into the box.

Wrapped up and warm, I venture into the pretty snow-covered garden and out the creaky, wooden gate to begin my snowy adventure.

More snow than I realize has fallen during the night. The way it gently drifts and pillows the lane into the village square is lovely and inviting – that satisfying snow-crunch under foot.

Winking, colorful Christmas lights add a festive sparkle to the windows of Della’s Curio Shoppe on the corner. Antique Christmas decorations and assorted glass bowls filled with hard candies, invites one to step inside and browse the eclectic trinkets. A calming scent of vanilla, fir, and old things tease the senses. A jolly looking antique snowman catches my eye. Carefully wrapped trinket in hand, I venture on into the village.

The small group of well bundled carolers gracing the entrance to the old stone church, sing with gusto as they nod a greeting to those who stop for a spell. Their blending sopranos and altos swirl up and away into the wintry air on frosted breath. A wistful sigh of nostalgia brushes against me as I remember Christmases past with caroling, hot cocoa and festive holiday laughter…

Ah! Penny’s Pastries!

A scent of baking, heady and delicious, wafts from the wreathed door as patrons come and go, leaving a path in the powdery snow. Will she have fresh cream currant scones? She does! I settle myself, the scone, and some steamy Winter Blend tea at a rustic table near the windows. People watching!

Across the square, Nadia’s Toys & Treasures is doing brisk business this morning! The festive window display draws in the strolling families as they watch the model train set navigate the miniature hills and tunnels covered in flakey snow. Tiny sheep and cattle settled on the snowy fields watch its progress. Wide eyed children beg to go in and see where that tiny train goes on its round and round journey. Adventure!

Kitty-corner is Bea’s Nifty Notions n’ Such serving the sew-ers, knitters and crafters of the village.  Brightly colored holiday ribbons, soft knit hats, mittens, and a plump Mrs. Claus at an antique sewing machine, adorn her display windows. It reminds me of my mother and grandmother – their beautiful handmade gifts and crafts so lovingly created. Two older ladies with bright purple hats and matching scarves bustle out the door. The holiday themed bags are filled with supplies for their next sewing project.

The clock-tower bells chime the hour with a deep, silvery gong. How times flies! There is more to see so I head out into the bustling square.

Lunch time!

Next stop, Lazzaro’s Deli.  A prosciutto, ham, salami, and Swiss cheese sandwich with a few swipes of golden mustard, thin-sliced red onion, a splash of balsamic and olive oil, just a touch, mind, and some plump grapes accompany me on a hike up the hill behind the village.  There is a small grove of pines at the top where adventurous children haul their sleds and all variety of hand-made sliding contraptions, to fly down the slope – yelping, shouting, and having a splendid time. Freedom and flight!

Weathered pine picnic tables are scattered around the grove for year-round picnickers, each table with a view of the sledders and village below. What a pleasant way to pass the afternoon. Memories pop up of climbing the hill at night with thermoses of hot cocoa and Baileys to look at the village adorned in Christmas lights. Spellbinding!

A quick brindle dog and large German Shepherd dash through the grove, pouncing and digging in the snow in search of the ball they have been fetching. While the dogs are busy, their owners pull out their picnic hoping to get in a few bites before the ball is found. The dog-kicked and flung snow comes dangerously close to my table. Laughing, I take that as my signal to head back down the hill.

Crisp, pine-scented, wintry air tousles my hair peeping out from under the beanie. Filling my lungs with the cold air is so invigorating! I’m alive and well on this wonderful day.

At the edge of the village, I change course and walk the lesser traveled side lanes. The snow drifts are deeper here but still navigable. The sun begins an early descent in the mountains and the shadows grow longer. The fading, muted light is a bit eerie as clouds move in and hover lower in the winter sky. The unmistakable feeling of snow.

The quaint and tumbled houses are pretty with their covers of snow and puffing chimneys. Safe and homey. A group of children jostle out one of the doors and into the nearby field pummeling each other with snowballs. Shouts and whoops of laughter break up the quiet.

Heading to the left, I follow the lane running along the banks of a stream. It passes from the hills through the village and out and beyond. Normally noisy and full of life, the quietening of winter renders it silent and still, as if in a deep and restful sleep. As I cross the sturdy stonework bridge spanning the iced-over stream, it broadens out into a wide, gentle lake frozen into the perfect ice-skating rink.  Ordering a large hot cocoa from the festive concessions stand, I grab a seat on one of the nearby benches.

Dinnertime!

The Aberdeen Café and Mama’s Diner fill up with hungry shoppers and families who need a quick refuel and rest before ice skating begins. I’m happy I have half a sandwich leftover from lunch. Trekking up and down the hill made me hungry. As the heat from the hot cocoa leaches into my chilly hands, I gaze around the square at the beautifully lit fir tree with its merry winking lights and lovely lit-up angel at the top.

With dinner finished, the brave and adventurous head out onto the ice. They are all in top form! Some glide by with calm, happy smiles while others slip along with mouths formed into a nervous O, as they precariously zip and zing across the ice.  There will be more than a few sore bums and knees before the night is over.

The village is festive and welcoming with its lovely lights and lit up greenery. I hesitate to head home yet, but it’s been a long day. The coziness of my aunt and uncle’s cottage, with the crackling fire they will have blazing, beckons me to go on home.

Finishing the hot cocoa, I take another look at the cheerful shops and happy skaters. What a lovely day!

I scoop up my package from the curio shoppe and make my way along the darkening lane to the cottage. As I walk and breathe in the frigid night air, a gentle snow begins to fall on the winter village. The large fluffy flakes are soft and gentle. So peaceful. I marvel at the way they flutter and float on the wintry night air, each going their own way. There is a deliberateness to the random way they descend and find their landing place. Each one with a specific spot that adds to the piling snow drifts – each one needed. I imagine the Creator’s joy and excitement as each one is uniquely crafted and thought out. Humanity isn’t so different from these beautiful snowflakes.

Turning onto Lakeview Lane, I pause to take in the cottage before heading inside. So lovely, the way it sparkles and winks, white lights outlining its edges and curves, smoke gently chuffing from the stone chimney. Inviting. Lovely memories of my day in the village are safely tucked away as snowy peace descends on the winter village.

Prayer

The intersection of the Divine and humanity. Awe inspiring. It’s hard to wrap the mind around this mystery of supernatural communion with the Creator. The One who formed us, named us, called us out from nothing into what is and prophesied over us what will be. Extraordinary, beautiful, mysterious.

It is the God-breathed breath in our lungs transforming into words whispered, shouted, sobbed, laughed and somehow ascending, floating, soaring up, up into the very presence of the One who formed the stars and called the Earth into being.  Into the Holy of Holies, in the presence of angels and cherubim our words, thought and spoken, know exactly where to go as they search out the ear and heart of the Father. Our words and every thought know they will be found when they seek His attention. A magnetism that draws our need, praise and sometimes our fury and rage, straight to Him. Undivided attention in the midst of billions of voices. How is that possible?

Yet it is. The meticulous attention, time, and precision with which we were each formed allows us direct access to the One who knows us best. Nothing is hidden from Him. The raw vulnerability of that exposure is terrifying and unsettling, yet I find safety and rest here. No disguise, mask or self-righteous posturing happens in His presence. Flowery words and Christianese have no place in honest, raw, desperate conversations with the One who knows our every breath and move; the One who has our names engraved on the palms of His scarred hands.

There are times when the wounds and need are so raw and deep that no adequate words exist to speak it out, yet the Spirit knows – the pain, the rage, the gnawing, indescribable need that cries for release. He is right there in the middle of it, interceding “for us with groans too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26). Love. Comfort. Safety.

At times the joy, victory and delight are too overwhelming to express and His Spirit births in us a deep, healing laughter and tears that could never be expressed with mere words. How He loves us, how intimately He knows us. How He delights in supernatural conversation with us!

It isn’t hard talking to Him. Open your mouth, your mind and allow your spirit to connect with Him.  You are never less than or too much. You are enough. You are just right. He does hear you. Jesus wants to heal you, offer you hope, peace, joy, and strength to get through all that life tosses out. He’s a best Friend, Father, Healer, Comforter, Warrior, the Prince of Peace, and you have His complete and undivided attention. So, grab your favorite mug, fill it with something soothing, lovely, and warm and have a chat with your Father…with or without words.