Christmas Day: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Joy

Pink Turks Cap, December 2025

 

                    May joy be born in you.

                    May joy take root in you.

                    May joy be scattered along your path.

                    May joy be the light in your eyes.

                    May joy become a dear friend. 

                    May joy be the gift you bring.

Christmas Eve: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Christmas Cactus

Christmas Cactus, December 2025

 My Christmas cactus is bursting into bloom. She's right on time. 

When I was growing up, I heard the advice to place your Christmas cactus in a closet for several weeks. The idea is that the extended time in uninterrupted darkness is supposed to send the signal that it's time to bloom. A quick search of online plant groups give this method mixed reviews. It works for some, not for others. 

I wonder about that. Sometimes darkness just feels like darkness, not any kind of signal or encouragement towards new growth and blooming. Here we are on Christmas Eve - a night to welcome Emmanuel, God with us - right on time. 

I am remembering the words of Isaiah 9:2,
"The people walking in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned." May it be so for each and every one of us. 

Fourth Tuesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from What We Keep

 Prayer Card, December 2025

 

The antique French prayer card reads: "Je suis l'Immaculée Conception." In English,  "I am the Immaculate Conception."

A Catholic prayer card falls out of an old family Bible that belonged to my husband's grandmother. A surprising find considering she was Methodist. Maybe it was a gift or something from an earlier time in her life.  All the same, lovely. It sits on my prayer altar now with other tokens that have found their way to me. 

That's how it seems to go. Special objects and tokens find their way to us - carrying messages of divine presence and encouragement - pointing us to a view of life more beautiful and expansive. The prayer card reminds me that I treasure Mary as part of my extended family of faith. I see the card and connect to her story once again. 

Look around. What tokens or reminders have found their way to you? What have you discovered or chosen to keep? What makes them special? And what messages do they carry?

Our treasures old and new. They are something beautiful, something good.

Fourth Monday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Duck Pond

Lake Tomahawk, Fall 2025
Black Mountain, North Carolina

 

Yesterday was the winter solstice. People I love walked a labyrinth or spiral path to mark the day. A sign of our inward and outward journey. 

On a visit to North Carolina in the fall, I remember watching this duck at sunset and the beautiful ripples that encircled him on the water. His own spiral path. As he glided across the lake, he stirred the sunset colors all around. As above, so below. 

Bless us as we follow the path that is ours.

Bless us as we stir all the colors of life.

Bless us as we create ripples that go where they will.

Bless the Lord, who encircles us in love. 

Fourth Sunday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Longest Night

Striking a Match for Lighting by Shinyoung An

            Tonight is the Winter Solstice. It's a night for lighting candles. 

            Light a candle for the one trying to find their way.

            Light a candle for the one missing someone they love.

            Light a candle for the one struggling to remember their belovedness.

            Light a candle for the one longing for good news.

            Light a candle for the one living in a war torn place.

            Light a candle for the one who keeps on caring.

                

            Light a candle for the One who brings light.

About the art - the painting is a favorite. I notice the hands striking a match over the newspaper - as if bringing a bit of light to all that is reported from across the world. You and I can bring our spark of light to the darkness. That is something beautiful, something good. 

 

Third Saturday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Nightfall

Nightfall, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

I'm pondering the gift of nightfall.

Maybe the day is or isn't over, but the evening light is gone and moment by moment, more stars become visible. 

It grows quiet except for the night noises. The hum of a fan, the sound of a glass being set on the counter. The slap of the lid on the trashcan, water running in the sink, quiet steps to retrieve books or headphones. The dog sniffing for one last treat. It takes a little while for the house to come to rest, but it does. That's true for us too.

Nightfall is the invitation to settle in and dream. 

 

Third Friday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Birthdays

Our Family, December 2025

Close your eyes and make 

a wish - blow out the candles

let yourself be loved

Third Thursday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Being at Home

Christmas Tree, December 2025

                    I am at home. 

                    I am at home in the early morning. 

                    I am at home with a cup of hot tea.

                    I am at home with bright lights on the tree.

                    I am at home at the beginning of a new day.

                    I am at home with a stack of books to my right and left.

                    I am at home with a prayer shawl around my shoulders.

                                I am grateful to know what it feels like to be at home.

    

Third Wednesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Simplicity

 

Chapel Nativity, December 2025

A simple nativity. Spare. Minimal. And still recognizable for exactly who they are - Mary, Joseph, Jesus.

I'm drawn to their simplicity and the idea of simplicity itself. But the truth is, their situation wasn't simple at all. And neither is mine.

My guess is that for many of us the arrival of Advent brings stormy weather across the landscape of relationships, health, expectations, and a world in chaos. Here we are on the last page of the 2025 calendar.  I come face to face with all the ways I thought, hoped, prayed that some things would go differently this year. Not simple by a longshot. 

And yet, when I sit quietly, I can revisit all the times when I knew the presence of goodness. I remember the simple truth that Love has permeated all my days - and all of yours. Maybe that's the Advent invitation for today. Seek and trust the presence of Love in all things. 

Third Tuesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Knowing a Place

Lone Tree, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

How many places can you say that you know like the back of your hand?

I woke up in the middle of the night. As I tried to lull myself back to sleep for a few more hours, I began to walk my grandmother's house. I tried to see how many details my mind would fill in. The jar of Hershey kisses hidden in the kitchen cabinet, the chalkboard in the den, the side porch with the washer and the clothesline in the backyard. The etched glass pattern on the bathroom mirror, the sound the drawers made when humidity made them stick, the list by the telephone, the birdbath and the picnic table taken over by plants.

Have you ever done that? Revisited a place you loved and a place that loved you back? 

To know a place by heart - it's something beautiful, something good.

Third Monday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from First Light

Sunrise in the Backyard, December 2025

Every minute of the coming day, 

Every item crossed off my list,

Every conversation and message,

Every envelope in the mailbox, 

Every errand and every stoplight,

Every ingredient measured and chopped, 

Every prayer breathed, 

    Started here...at first light. 

Third Sunday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Taking Photos

Afternoon Walk, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

Many years ago I was on a youth retreat with about 100 teenagers. I wasn't just on the retreat, I was leading the retreat. We were walking from breakfast to morning worship and I noticed a cluster of red flowers on the side of our walking path. Later that afternoon I spotted lavender water lilies at the lake where we canoed. And checking out at the end of the weekend, there were bright pink roses outside of the camp office. Even without a camera, my mind was starting to snap photos. A strong enough urge that I'm remembering it more than 20 years later. 

I knew someone who took beautiful photos. His advice was "the best way to take a good photo is to take lots of photos." Another friend said casually, "It's all about the light." Their words have stayed with me and returned at just the right time. 

This photo above is from an afternoon walk at the monastery. Nothing exceptional stood out as I was crossing the tall grass, but the way the light shined through the leaves reminded me - "it's all about the light" - and I took out my phone for a few photos. 

You know what I would like?

I would like to learn to see the way light shines through people the way I can see light shining through leaves. I would like to be able to see the way the light falls uniquely on a person - or the way it encircles someone - the way it illumines them from within. Wouldn't that be something? Let's practice. 

 

Second Saturday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Good Shepherd

Artwork by Nancy Thomas

                   

                    May the blessings of these Advent days be yours.

                    May you learn to watch and wait with the Good Shepherd. 
                    May you learn to see yourself and others with steady love. 

                    May companions fill your world with warmth and delight.

                    May you know the nearness of angels.

                    May you hear the song of the redbirds. 

 

Second Friday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from a Good Question

A wall-hanging stitched by my Grandmother, December 2025

I had a conversation with someone I love today. One of my favorite kinds - we wander from topic to topic spanning everything and then some. One of our landing places was around the question, 

"What makes it feel like Christmas?" 

Last week we carried boxes of ornaments and Christmas decorations from the attic. We spent an afternoon unwrapping the tissue paper and remembering the story of each special thing. When and where it was purchased, or who made it. What life was like when it became part of our collection. 

Altogether they tell the story of our family.  Unboxing again the physical reminders and tokens of all our years - seeing and holding them with care and placing them on the tree or around the house makes it feel like Christmas. The Holy family takes their place in the living room; angels greet us from the kitchen. Bright trees shine in the entryway, and nutcrackers stand tall in the dining room. A stack of Christmas books will soon find their spot near the fireplace. Through all is the spirit of warmth and belonging. It's something beautiful, something good. 

Second Thursday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Lazarus Window

The Lazarus Window, December 2025
A&M UMC, College Station, Texas

A&M United Methodist Church commissioned a new sanctuary window on Sunday. They are installing new stained glass, working their way around the sanctuary and we were there for the first Sunday after the "Lazarus Window" was installed. Each section depicts God's presence in a perilous time, calling forth life. 

To consider the Lazarus story during Advent, is to consider places of grief, loss and peril. Like Mary and Martha, we may wonder where exactly is Jesus in this or that situation. Especially when we find that sorrow and joy are sitting at the same soul table - under the same soul roof. 

In God's way, and in God's timing - life is called forth. Like Lazarus, we are called forth by name. And it is enough. As it has been written, "nothing is impossible for God." 

 

Second Wednesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Listening Again

Celosia, December 2025

A pastor friend hosts a mid-week prayer and communion service each Wednesday. 

Today we practiced lectio divina with the Annunciation passage from Luke 1:26-38. I listened as she read the passage three times; listening deeply for God's invitation. Where is the story of Gabriel and Mary intersecting with my real, everyday life? In this season of life?

Gabriel carried a message to Mary. Could it be that Gabriel has a message for me? and for you?

In the Sacred Space Prayerbook, the Jesuits ask it this way, 

    

    "If God were trying to tell me something, would I know? If God were reassuring me or challenging         me, would I notice? I ask God for the grace to be free of my own preoccupations and open to what        God may be saying to me."

Here's to cultivating freedom and openness of heart so we might listen again to the old, old story.

Second Tuesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Cat

 

Monastery Cat, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

                  

A study of stillness.

An exercise of essence.

A rubric of rest.

A lesson of lifestyle.

A practice of pause.

A composition of calm.

An examen of ease.

A manner of mindfulness.

A reflection of repose.

A posture of presence.

                    

  

Second Monday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Wild Apples

Wild Apple Tree, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

Out for an afternoon walk. 

I'm walking a familiar path and glance up to see a slender apple tree, loaded with ripening fruit just a short distance away. 

All morning I've been listening to birdsong and the sound of the river. I've been refreshed by the cold air and the joy of stepping out for a wandering walk. And now, an apple tree. 

I imagine the deer and the other creatures who rely on wild apples - they already know where this exact tree is. The scent has led them here. 

May there always be wild apples for the deer.

May unexpected sources of nourishment be within reach for each of of us.

May we follow something beautiful, something good, more deeply into life.

 

Second Sunday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Unexpected Invitations

 

"Annunciation" by Gocha Kakabadze (Republic of Georgia)

I am a collector at heart. 

Paintings and photos illustrating the Annunciation always catch my eye. My gathered collection is growing. Today I added this one from Gocha Kakabadze. 

It appears to me that the angel is almost walking across the ceiling - it makes me smile. Perhaps Gabriel is hinting at the upside-down nature of God's kingdom. 

Barbara Brown Taylor once said, "If I claim one guiding principle for my life, it is to say yes to unusual propositions and see what happens." 

I've been paying attention to invitations that have come my way recently. Risk taking doesn't come naturally to me, but every now and then I get a flutter in my chest that says, "Say yes." 

Let's give thanks for Mary's brave yes. 

Let's give thanks for angels and invitations.

Let's give thanks for the upside-down kingdom.

Let's see what happens.

First Saturday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Soft Light

Highway 59 outside of El Campo, December 2025

 

A winter sky over South Texas. 

The clouds are washed in silver over fields that are resting from growing and harvest season. The colors cast a soft light over everything. The light becomes my companion on the drive. I love how it shifts every few minutes as sunset approaches. 

Some moments come wrapped in their own diffused softness. Moments when the most important thing is to simply be present. To witness. To tend to what is right in front of us. 

I'm grateful for the quiet joy that finds us along the way. It is something beautiful, something good. 

First Friday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Around the Bend

Driving through the River from Laity Lodge, Fall 2025
Leakey, Texas

 

I know a place where the drive in and out takes me through the Frio river. 

On the way in, my heart knows the feeling of coming home. And on the way out, just around the bend, my heart knows the feeling of beginning the drive back to my home city of Houston. I always say, "It's good to go - and good to come home." 

Here's a secret: I carry the river in my heart. I can visit whenever I want. I carry the river down Gessner Drive and to the grocery store. I carry the river when I'm on zoom or making dinner or out for a walk. I carry the river on gray days. Sometimes I forget, but then I remember.

That's how it is once you've found a sacred place, a thin place - it becomes part of you. The places we carry in our hearts are something beautiful and something good. 

First Thursday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Rose

Roses at the Benedictine Monastery, Fall 2025
Pecos, New Mexico

It was the first day of a silent retreat. I've been at the monastery before. At an altitude of almost 7,000 feet I've learned to take it easy the first day or so. 

I've stepped out on the back porch and cannot miss the bright red roses. I've never seen them in bloom before. It's exhilarating. On previous trips, I suspected that spiky plant was a rosebush. There's no denying it today. The roses are striking against the adobe building, the wide blue sky, and the golden green colors of fall. 

There's a blessing in seeing something come into bloom. And a blessing in seeing someone come into bloom. 

I'm remembering words from Georgia O'Keefe, "Still, in a way -- nobody sees a flower -- really -- it is so small -- we haven't the time -- and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." 

May we take the time.

May we take the time to see.

May we take the time to see what is coming into bloom. 

May we take the time to see who is coming into bloom. 

May we take the time.

First Wednesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Blackbirds

Backyard Grackles, Fall 2025

 There hasn't been enough rain in my hometown of Corpus Christi, Texas. Hardly any. 

So when my mother empties her watering can into the birdbath, birds gather and spend several moments getting a drink. Just that small amount makes all the difference. 

No one needs to remind birds to drink when they are thirsty. They don't forget and they don't put it off. They don't try to get one more thing accomplished. Backyard birds are good teachers in that way. 

May we learn to recognize our thirst, our true thirst.

May we discover small pools of refreshment.

May we see that there is enough to share.

First Tuesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Seeds

Hyacinth Beans, December 2025

Another afternoon walk.

I came to a stop in front of a neighbor's garden when my eye caught the bright purple of hyacinth bean seed pods. They stand out against the shades of green and soft pink sweetheart roses. 

I ponder the seeds - the promise they contain for something new that might come to life. 

I remember other occasions when I pocketed seeds from trees and flowers. Over the years, I've collected some from an orchid tree in Costa Rica, a mystery plant in Colorado, coral vine from my Mother's garden, something bright orange from the hill country, purple trumpet from a friend.

Last summer, I went through my collection to see what might grow. I lined up the tiny starter pots on the back porch table in hopes they would germinate, take root and grow. Some of them did. Others were overcome by the heat and not enough diligent care. 

Why did I collect them and keep them? What took me such a long time to plant them? Why does my gaze land on seeds wherever they are found? How is it that they make my heart feel as if a window has been raised and fresh air blown in?

Something in me must want very much to cultivate life and beauty. Something in me hopes to participate in nurture and growth. Something in me is flat out curious about what will happen with a spade full of dirt and a string of sunny days. Something in me is delighted by what comes from a tiny and humble beginning. Something is me is enamored by possibility. 

The gift of pondering seeds - something beautiful, something good. 

 

First Monday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from a Neighborhood Hawk

Neighborhood Hawk, November 2025

 

May you know the blessing of an unhurried walk on a cloudy afternoon.

May you know the blessing of meeting someone face to face, eye to eye and unafraid.

May you know the blessing of perfect stillness that comes before perfect flight.

May you know the blessing of wonder in your own neighborhood.

May you know the blessing of watching and waiting together.