John, for me, is the apostle of light, the apostle who shines the light on the true nature of our God and our Lord and Savior.
As if on cue, every second Sunday of Advent my husband and I get into an argument about the correct type of lights to hang in order to welcome baby Jesus, the incarnate God, into the world.
I recently had a literal “come to Jesus” moment while saying goodbye to a fellow parishioner leaving our Sunday service.
Our students at The Episcopal Academy know about waiting.
In an Episcopal Mission Church in the mountains, Father Joe staunchly said: not one bit of Christmas until the Christ Child is placed in the manger.
I typically welcome the shorter days that accompany the season of Advent. Less daylight should theoretically translate to fewer distractions and more snuggling on the couch, under fleece blankets with warm cups in hand.
As a child, unwrapping the nativity set was one of my favorite aspects of decorating for Christmas.
When we made the decision to opt out of hosting Christmas for my family last year, my husband and I sat down to brainstorm how to make the holiday season extra special for our girls.
A poem for the season of Advent
For the first time in my adult life, I’m nervous about Advent.