The Glorious Muddle
glimpses of grace in the messiness of life

January 8, 2021

Hope for the New Year? How about Peace?

Today we had our first snow of the year. The quiet beauty enveloped my world. It looked peaceful. If only that was true.

In lieu of making resolutions each new year, many of my friends choose a single word to be their focus for the year. For me, I set goals to aim for instead of resolutions. Besides, I’m better at choosing a word in hindsight to describe the year that was. But I do appreciate reading the words my friends select.

Many chose Hope for 2021.


December 29, 2020

The Week Between

This week between the holidays–after Christmas but before New Year’s–has always been my favorite of the year. The hubbub has ceased. There are no expectations. My world becomes quiet. The pace has slowed to almost a complete stop. I feel at rest.

This is my time to do nothing but read, reflect, and plan.

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December 22, 2020

Light in a Dark World

Continuing with the contrast of light and darkness, I’m repeating some old blog posts. This one is from 2018.

December is a month of waiting. If you’re young, you wait for Santa to come. If you’re a sun-seeker, you wait for the days to grow longer again. If you’re a Christ-follower, you wait for the coming (the advent) of the Christ child.

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December 18, 2020

Hope Even in the Darkness

I’ve always been interested in the contrast of light and darkness. As we draw nearer to the darkest day of the year, and the day the Light came to earth, I thought I’d repeat some old blog posts. This one is from 2017 but it is even more relevant today, in the midst of all the loss of 2020.

Advent is a time to wait. We wait, expectantly. We hope, even in the darkness. Especially in the darkness.

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December 9, 2020

Your First Christmas

I was slightly over a year old in this photo and only seven-weeks-old for my first Christmas.

Do you remember your first Christmas? Didn’t think so. I don’t, either. Not too many of us do.

I remember early ones, when my brother thought he heard Santa stomping around on our roof with his big boots and when we waited at the top of the stairs with my little cousins, eager to be allowed to come down on Christmas morning. And I remember the time I first started to question whether the Jolly Old Elf was real or not. But my first one? No.

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