Fear not, the angels would text me. Hallelujah, I’d write back.

May we continue to find ways to connect while keeping safe this holiday season.

Each Advent, my empathy for Mary’s situation returns.

The stories remind us there is still and always joy in this world, but it usually comes right alongside the struggle.

This is a "love saves" story.

Every year, I tell the congregation not to worry about mistakes because there aren’t any; there is only us, telling an old story about love getting born into this aching world.

With a single generous gesture from my older child, her sister's belief in Santa stayed intact that year.

In real life, sometimes grief looms largest in December. Sometimes there's one too many dress-ups and the gold tulle makes your legs itch. “I just needed it to stop for a minute. Next time I will take calm breaths.”

There's nothing simple about the holidays. Joy can feel empty when it is compulsory. The promise of liberation is hard fought and well earned.

It’s been said that it’s easier to untangle a string of lights if you plug them in; it’s no different for people. Humans, just like strings of lights, are wired for connection.

An adequate Christmas would have you calm and open, taking it in, accepting whatever is. Slow it all down like you might be, in some way, attuned to the pace of the Eternal. If you need, you can fake it at first.

“If I ask you a question, do you promise to tell me the truth?" For future reference, if a child asks you this question at Christmas time, EVADE.

December 7, 2016 “Use loneliness. Its ache creates urgency to reconnect with the world.” — Natalie Goldberg I know a little about "merry" meeting "mess" at the holidays — and by a little I mean How much time have you got? Four Christmases ago, a painful break-up sent me spinning into a long...