There's something particularly hushed about early December mornings.
Especially when there's been snow.
Crisp air outside.
Soft lights inside.
The quiet stirs up longings, as I believe the season is meant to do.
December is now arrived, all new and full of expectations.
Or not.
Because...life's like that.
If this is the first Christmas without someone.
Or if it's looking like this might be the last.
Or if the year past has just been so brutal
that these last days of it can't be done soon enough.
But early in the mornings,
December holds a special hush.
And I stand outside just to breathe the air of it.
And I come inside just to wash in the softness of it.
And whatever else it is, we wait.
Let every heart
prepare Him room.
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