Prologue To Winter 2025/2026: All Things Bright and Bare

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The first frost came almost at once, after a long and colorful fall that felt like a gift.
Then suddenly, by morning, the world was hushed: rooftops glazed, trees holding their breath, every branch traced in silver, our garden shimmering in frost. Even the air felt new, cleaner somehow, like heaven had exhaled while we slept.

Inside, the fire warmed the home and the hearts. The boys pressed their palms to the window, watching the light scatter over the garden, wonder before words. I thought of how God paints the world in stillness first, before warmth returns. His miracles are often so subtle they go unnoticed.

There’s a kind of holiness in this season; not in grandeur, but in the way love gathers us, warms us while the sun cannot, and whispers that He never lets us down and never stops caring for us. Bread dough rises slowly in the oven now, the counter would take too long. Root vegetables wait their turn to roast beside grass-fed fillet mignon. Wool layers dry by the chimney. A table stands ready for whoever walks through the door.

Outside, winter begins its work: pruning, purifying, preparing.
Inside, we learn the same rhythm. To rest. To rebuild. To be content in the ordinary light.

And yet, even as we dwell in what’s given now, we can’t help but look forward to the beauty that soon will come. To the soft, sparkling, white blanket that will cover the town. To the laughter that fills the house when snow arrives and the little ones press their faces to the glass again, before running to get their gear and play in and under the snow, until sipping on hot chocolate. To the season of lights and songs, where Christmas carries its own magic — never equal to God, yet still a tender tradition that reminds us of His truth when kept in the right place, beneath Him.

This is where joy lives: in the steady hands that pour, fold, mend, and bless. In the laughter that fills small rooms while wind sings at the door.
In the knowing that God is near, not in noise or glitter, but in the quiet spark of every living thing.

Let the world rush ahead.
We’ll stay right here, in the glow that follows grace.