My younger daughter was being particular for Christmas: Mandarin skin cream from Aesop, a small facial boutique shop on Lido Isle.
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.
I first learned of Stephen, as I suspect many of us do, via Wenceslas and his walk over deep, crisp, and even snow. In that lovely song, Stephen serves largely as the backdrop for an allegory about kingship.
Worship has been much on my mind recently, not necessarily the liturgy or the music or whether to be online or in person for Christmas services, but mostly I’ve been pondering the innate human need to worship, and its various manifestations.
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.
Christmas isn’t canceled. The New Year is coming, fresh and frosty.
Merry Christmas, friends. For our household, this morning feels like we’ve finally reached the finish line of the most grueling ultramarathon race in history. Today we are putting aside the hallmarks of our 2020: anxiety, despair, and decision fatigue, so we can make room for twelve full days of joy and Jesus.
If I were writing this last year I don’t even think I would have paid any attention to this part of Nicholas’ story. I’m not sure the word would have registered in my brain. But this year? Hearing of a young boy losing both his parents to an uncontrolled illness was hard to ignore.
This is the time of year when many Episcopal clergy start reminding anyone who will listen how important it is to observe Advent. It normally […]