Embracing change

and the shifting landscape

On this day in November, with a forecast of snow, I contemplate the changing seasons yet again. The wind outside whispers its warning that winter is on its way.

There are some aspects of winter that I love –

the cozy sweaters, socks, and scarves,

the way the landscape is transformed under a blanket of white,

the darkness that comes early, encouraging me to stay in and grab a good book to read,

the inevitable slowing in my schedule that occurs except for the few weeks around the holidays.

It is like winter gives us permission to pause, to enjoy cradling our coffee cup for a few more minutes before the day begins. It offers permission to cook and bake all the comfort foods our bodies crave.

When viewed from the perspective of a garden, winter allows for resting and replenishing. There is no growth to measure in the winter months – only waiting and trusting.

I am wondering what you are noticing in this season.

This winter we are awaiting a major surgery date and long days of recovery for a loved one. All of our plans are up in the air for the holidays. I am trying to rest in the unknown, in the hidden. Trying to trust that something is happening despite there being no signs yet.

For the first time in a very long time, we will not be home for Christmas. That is only in a geographical sense–we won’t be at our home in Stony Plain for Christmas. But in another sense, we will be home because our family will be together. It will likely be a rented Airbnb in the big city of Toronto. In all likelihood we will be dealing with dressings, pain meds, and catheters, maybe even Christmas in a sterile hospital room. Our celebrations may not take place on Dec. 25th, it may be a month later, but we will celebrate. We might be missing some of our favourite things, but we will have our favourite people.

Maybe this stripped-down Christmas will allow us to remember what is most important. We might not have the decorated tree, the neighbor’s outdoor lights, my famous butter tarts, or the comforts of home, but we will have time together – the one thing we don’t want to be without.

And we will celebrate the story of Christmas –how light comes into the darkness. How, when all hope seemed lost, it came wrapped in the body of a baby. May this story and this Jesus we remember during this time of year, be all that we need.

The story of Christmas is one of scandal after scandal.

A young woman gets pregnant before her wedding day.

The young man does not know what to think, but mostly wants out of the arrangement, until an angel convinces him otherwise.

The story goes that a baby is born to poor family, whose morals are now questioned. This family belongs to the oppressed class in an occupied territory. They were far from their home when the baby decided to be born having travelled to be counted by the ruling regime.

The baby was born in a less-than-ideal location, not at home surrounded by family, but in a rented room amongst the animals.

A rag-tag bunch of smelly shepherds–who were strangers– came to visit the family. They made a big deal about the tiny baby.

How strange this all must have felt.

Even as I write these words, I am comforted realizing that our displacement this coming holiday season reflects part of the first Christmas. We do not need the situation to be perfect or as we prefer it for him to come. Miracles happen in the strangest of places.

Maybe for you, Christmas is looking much different than you imagined this year – people are missing, peace feels out of reach, God’s absence feels more real than his presence, the pain hasn’t left, questions still have no answers, and weariness has settled over you with no sign of relief. Is it possible that this season could still be good? Maybe this prayer by Jan Richardson is for you too,

“Let there be

an opening

into the quiet

that lies beneath

the chaos,

where you find

the peace you did not think

possible

and see what shimmers

within the storm.”

No matter how many times we have heard the story of Christmas, if we are truly listening, we will find more. We find a God who knows our struggles, who understands disappointment and displacement. We celebrate this Jesus who knows exactly what it means to be human. This God knows loneliness and fear, skinned knees and a broken heart. As I get older this story becomes more relevant and more beautiful to me.

As we enter Advent,

and the pressures pile up,

may you be accompanied by the Prince of Peace.

May the Wonderful Counseller

tend to your griefs that loom large this season.

And may his presence surround you

no matter where you find yourself.

Advent Resources

If you are looking for some help to enter into the season in a deeper way, here are some suggestions.

Last year I signed up to receive a poem each day from Tara Owens of Anam Cara Ministries. There is an option to read or listen. This was a gift of beauty each day as I listened.

You can sign up here for that.

Alison Bradley in her Dear Friend letter shared some gentle resources for those who don’t need one more thing to add to the list of to-do’s, but crave something more. Check out her recommendations and give her a follow.

Finally I wish you a blessed season this Advent. If it will be different than you planned, may you discover again that our Immanuel comes to you just as you are and where you are.

Thanks for being here,

If you find these reflections helpful or encouraging, I would so appreciate it if you would:

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