In a regular year, last Sunday would have been “Rally Day” at my church.
On the first Sunday of Advent after church, I get to go home and do one of my most favorite things. No, it is not decorate a Christmas tree—we will wait until the week of Christmas to do that. On the first Sunday of Advent, in my family, we set up our nativities.
As I stared at the crowds amassed around our holy family, it occurred to me that with our first child, other than the occasional comment on our parenting and her stranger glare reserved demeanor, we were pretty much left alone as parents to sink or float.
“This is the message we have heard from him and proclaim to you, that God is light and in him there is no darkness at […]
I saw an Instagram post this past week made by a residential program for women who are trying to piece their lives back together after varying circumstances. The picture in the post showed a small child holding a Christmas ornament, the young son of one of the women. The child was entranced with the sparkly red ball in his hands.
Mary was a distant figure for me before having children. As a child she was the part in the nativity I never got to play (my short brown hair meant that I always lost out to my long blond-haired friends). As an adult, to me she was the venerated saint of Catholics, whose hailing brought a comfort I did not understand. I knew she was important, but I could not relate to her.
Sharing these stories and a time of wondering has led us to connect to the Scripture and one another in a new
We do not keep elves on any of our shelves to send behavior reports to the North Pole. Christ came for us while we were yet on the naughty list.
Since we became Episcopalian, the way I bring the season into my home has become even more fun and meaningful.
One story of an Advent remembered. The tree-trimming, sweet-making, church-going kind.