‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve and all through the house,The cats were going apeshit, like they just saw a mouse. The wrapping paper was shredded and mangled and slobbery. It looks like this house was the scene of a robbery. The stockings weren’t hung ‘cause we hadn’t finished shopping But Nat King Cole was blaring, so we were she-bopping. The oysters were chilling on their bed of crushed ice But the Kid’s not a fan, so she had some fried rice. We scurried and hurried to cook, box and wrap, Pledging tomorrow would yield ample time for a nap...

This year: I’m not going to pour sparkles over the shadows. I’m going allow the dark to be dark and the light to be light. I’m going to allow the sadness to be sadness and the joy to be joy. I’m going to eat the cookies and sing the hymns and cry and stomp when I am called to do so. I’m going to grieve what needs to be grieved and celebrate what wants to be celebrated. I’m going to look back, and I’m going to look forward. And I’m going to look right here, AT the mystery of the present, IN the mystery of the present.

In the quiet respite of the dark, I’ll be able to see.

My wins are your wins. My tears are your tears. My success is your success. My survival is your survival. My thrival is your thrival.

Can you trust? Can you accept? Can you imagine that it’s all happening exactly at the speed with which it’s supposed to be happening? That divine timing is not yours to control?