Week 4: Love on Christmas Eve

'Twas in the moon of wintertime,
when all the birds had fled,
that mighty Gitchi Manitou
sent angel choirs instead;
before their light the stars grew dim,
and wandering hunters heard the hymn...

The Huron Carol by Jean de Brebeuf 1643. Click here to hear the carol sung by the Elora Festival Singers

image under license from Fotolia

In these last hours of Advent, let the planning, stressing, buying, cleaning come to rest, to take time to reflect...

For some the year has been good - dreams  have come true, problems solved, and needs met. For too many though, 2025 has been very hard, cruel even. Losses have outweighed gains and the struggle to live has been a daily challenge. And yet here we all are gathered again on the doorstep of Christmas in the centre of life carrying the hopes and fears of all the years.

And now it's time to leave our flocks and leave our fields...to wait and watch. 
"Let there be light," the One voice once said.
And as the sun sets later this day and the stars arise, around the world Christmas candles will begin to light the darkness.

Tonight there is but one heart's desire:

May  hope, peace, joy, and love awaken together again this night.

May Earth, Air, Fire, Water and Spirit dance joyfully together this night.

May Christmas morning dawn merry and bright.

Thank you all for joining me again this year for Reflections for Advent.

From our house to yours -

Merry Christmas!

©2025 April Hoeller

Week 4: Love - Tuesday

While I go about the house today, locking the vacuum tractor beam onto unsuspecting dust bunnies, mopping up spillage off the kitchen floor, and waving a magic duster wand around all the rest, I'll let the the words of others light the way.

Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love.

Mother Teresa

The good life is one inspired by love and guided by knowledge.
Bertand Russell

There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.

George Sand

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Christmas, my child, is love in action.

Every time we love,

every time we give, it's Christmas.

Dale Evans

It seems to me that love demands a lot of waiting. Waiting for the right person, the right place, the right moment. For children waiting is an almost unbearable time of eager anticipation. There are whispers and giggles, a breathless, bug-eyed excitement. Waiting just might be the best part.

Pamela C. Hawkins wrote this about waiting in Advent:

"Holy Anticipation,

that breathtaking space in-between what has been, what is, what is-to-come.

Where winter dreams reveal secret longings
and winged angels announce the coming of Love.

You draw us to the edge of Advent possibility
like the song of angels drawing shepherds—

           eyes wide and breath held—

                              waiting, watching."

©2007 Pamela C. Hawkins, Behold: Cultivating Attentiveness in the Season of Advent, (Nashville, TN: Upper Room Books, 2011), 22.

Wherever you are found waiting this day - in the mall, at the grocery store, in traffic, at the clinic, in the kitchen wondering about what chore comes next -

make the most of standing still - 

waiting,

watching...

Be safe out there.

Let's all be home for Christmas.

©2025 April Hoeller

Week 4: Love - Monday

  Welcome Yule!

"Solstice" comes from Latin, meaning 'sun stands still.' That was yesterday. But today is the day when for the first time since June 21st, the hours of daylight actually increase - by a whole 2 SECONDS! Doesn't seem like much and I certainly am not likely to notice the change, but it is the first time in six months that daylight has lengthened instead of shortened! And tomorrow it's +7 seconds. By January 1st it's FIVE minutes and that I will notice! The light is returning!

Our ancient Norse and Germanic ancestors marked the return of the sun with great fires on hilltops and in sacred places. They danced around the flames and chanted prayers. Their celebrations went on for twelve days - the season of Yule.

As it was and ever shall be, all is not merry and bright in this 2025 edition of the season of the heart, yet the circle of life assures us there will yet be a brighter day. An old cycle ends and a new one slowly, quietly begins. Honour the darkness. Welcome the light. Both are teachers.

"When animals hide, the light is reborn.
     When the leaves are gone, the light is reborn.
          When the river is frozen, the light is reborn.
               When the ground is hard, the light is

reborn.

Warmth comes again, the light is reborn.
     Plants will appear, the light is reborn.
          Animals emerge, the light is reborn.
               Green comes again, the light is reborn.
                    Life continues, the light is reborn."

from a solstice ritual - Congregation of Unitarian Universalists

May all the Yule fires,

all the Advent candles,

all the Christmas lights

work together to brighten our darkness.

©2025 April Hoeller

The Fourth Sunday of Advent

My Advent candles sit amidst all the clutter that is my kitchen at this time of year. In the background, you can see various packages, a stick blender and the very important "Altar of caffeine," aka the espresso machine. The debris field of post-it notes on my desk to the right, is  thankfully obscured. The season of Advent sits in the midst of all the clutter that is Christmas, quietly lighting the way.

And we have made it to the fourth and last Sunday of this season of anticipation. Mary and Joseph have arrived at the crèche. They have traveled around my living room since the beginning of December, stopping on this window sill or that, this table or that, but now they have found a place to settle down for a bit. There’s not much in the stable, just a few animals grazing on hay in a manger. The shepherds are clustered around, and the Wise Men – well God knows where they are, but surely they are still a long way off.

So here they are, this unlikely couple, these two very ordinary people, all alone, waiting. I wonder how many nights they spent huddled in the cave? How many dawns saw them both disappointed and relieved that the birth had not happened? How many mornings did they wake up wondering if they had gotten it all wrong? How many times did they lament that this was not the perfect home birth they wanted??

Every year traditions, expectations, memories, all clamour for the top spot. The pressure - all of it self-imposed - mounts to pull off a magnificent Christmas. While this year I've had to back off on creating the best celebration ever, (well that's what I keep telling myself) I still want everything to be very good. I still want most of decorations in their rightful place. I still want the sumptuous feast to be as it's always been. I still want the "Kodak" moment, the one with all the right trimmings and all the right people, even though the only place there has ever been a picture perfect image has been on a cookie sheet.

Yet there is always a magical moment when it all does come together, a single shining instant when hope, peace, joy, and love catch up with each other, and Christmas happens. Sometimes these moments pop up before the Big Day; sometimes as the calendar marches toward the New Year, I've been left wondering if somehow I missed it.  But Christmas doesn't have to obey my calendar and nothing I do can ever make Christmas perfect. I can't orchestrate it, though God knows I do try!  There is something bigger going on here, something way beyond me...

Eternal Light of long nights and bright stars,
open my senses,
heighten my expectation
and make pregnant my hope.

Within my heart there is a Christmas moment:
a Bethlehem where light shines with tender memories;
where angelic voices sing out lustily and with good courage;
a place of wonder where all is calm, all is bright.

Eternal Light of long nights and bright stars,
journey with me through these last days
that I may know and cherish my Christmas moments.

©2025 April Hoeller

Week 3: Joy - Saturday

 Few writers of faith are able to touch my heart as Robert Benson does in this season of hope, peace, joy and love. As this third week of Advent comes to a close, I will let some of his gentle words fill this space.

“And now here we all are again, the whole motley crowd of us, all gathered up to tell and to hear and to celebrate the story once again.  For some of us, it has been a fine year, this one that has passed since we last sat down to await the telling of the story of the Night of the Child.  Some of our dreams have come true and some of our questions have been answered and some of our problems have been solved and some of our needs have been met."

"For some of us though, our year’s journey has been harder than we could have dreamed that it would be or could be.  Someone will not be here to share the trip toward Bethlehem with us this year, and we cannot imagine going without them.  Some of us have lost much in the last year, much more than we gained.  And though we are far enough along on the journey to know that life can always be counted on to lead us through the hard places sometimes, it seems that this year we have seen more than our fair share."

"Some of us are waiting to see what will come of the prophet’s words, some to see if the time will pass quietly, some are watching the heavens and looking for the Light."

"We were all there then, and we will all soon be there again,
carrying the hopes and fears of all the years.
And we will choose between our hope and our fear.”

from: The Night of the Child, ©2000 Robert Benson

image under license from Fotolia

images: ©2025 April Hoeller

Week 3: Joy - Friday

Earlier this week, I watched my granddaughters' Christmas delight bubble up and over into giggles and shrieks along with bounces and twirls and bends in ways I can now only dream of. Decorating the Christmas tree was all a blur of joyful movement that left me in an exhausted state of awe.  

But they weren't done yet. There were cookies to be decorated and baked, followed by cardmaking. These tasks were a little more concentrated, a little quieter but no less joyful. Applying that last sprinkle on the cookie tray, that last sticker on the card, elicited  huge smiles accompanied by jubilant departures from the table in search of  the to next activity.

The winter wonderland outside my door had been beckoning since they arrived, but now it was time to get out there. They tromped through the knee-high snow, falling down and bouncing back up again.

Last but by no means least the older one saw an opportunity she just could not pass up. She plunked herself down into the snow on her back then swung her arms and legs back and forth. Just like a pro, she got herself up, leaving behind a snow angel. As I watched, joy bubbled up inside me bringing with it so many memories of winter fun. I was energized and I really wanted to get down into that snow to make my own angel. The smooth white eiderdown-like blanket of snow was so inviting... but I paused just long enough to let discretion be the better part of valour. At just shy of three months post-back surgery, if I had acted on impulse, however joy-FULL it was, at best it would have brought embarrassment and required a rescue mission, and at worst could have resulted in an injury that neither I nor my orthopedic surgeon would have been happy about. Maybe next year...  

Joy is not something I have to make happen. It's not even something that I  have to actively take part in, but rather it is a pure gift that can be experienced from the sidelines - the exuberant joy of little ones erupting in giggles and twirls, lively spirits, free from the cares of the world, and a granddaughter's snow angel.  

Perfect Joy! 

©2025 April Hoeller

Week 3: Joy - Thursday

Sacred wisdom claims that divine joy shimmers on every day, but some days I have to work awfully hard to see it, feel it.  Some days, and days upon days, joy seems to have gone AWOL! 

World events continue to disturb my sense of safety and security. Global political machinations confound me. I'm living in a world that I no longer understand and  in which I have zero power. Human beings are capable of such unfathomable cruelty and cowardice. And yet, we are also capable of equally astounding compassion and bravery.

Heartache and hope, darkness and light, often walk together holding hands. And that's a really good thing, one that can brighten a day.

image by license from Fotolia

Reach out,

Take hold of a hand, smile, listen.

Be the light in someone's darkness.

Be the shimmering moment of joy in someone's day.

©2025 April Hoeller