This piece releases early Christmas morning, and I hope it finds you stirring early in the quiet of your home. Maybe you’ve just put some cinnamon rolls in to bake, or have poured your first cup of coffee and are watching the sun yawn its way back into the day. For the love of all things holy, I hope that wherever and however it finds you, you are delighted with your presence there. Light your first candle, for Hope. Your second for Peace. The third for Joy, and your fourth for Love. And if you find this morning simply too busy to read it all, scroll all the way down for the most important question to ask yourself today.
Take a deep breath and read along with me here.
“And if you find that the gifts are all wrapped, and the cookies are baked, but there is still something missing, it may be waiting for you at the Humane Society.”
Conductor Thomas Wilson of the Colorado Springs Philharmonic had only a few minutes to share during the Christmas Sumphony we attended on Sunday, the last Sunday of Advent. And he chose to use that time to talk about pet adoption. Before this pointed charge, he described his newest family member, Ella Fitzgerald, and how over the last year of having her, his family watched her change from a “tough girl” to the softest and sweetest cuddle buddy. I know it was love that transformed her. Only love can cast out that kind of fear.
In those few minutes, Conductor Thomas Wilson reminded us that love isn’t static—it moves, calls, and acts. Love turned a ‘tough girl’ into a cuddle buddy, and that same love can change us, too.
The day before, in the middle of a weekend in which I was dragging Michael around Denver from one Christmas-themed event to another, we walked down a busy street filled with vendors and carolers to a man writing poems by request with his typewriter. I asked him “How much for a poem about our dog Jeffrey?” He replied, “There is no price, let’s see if you like it first.” He asked me to tell him just a little about Jeffrey, so I showed him the 5,678 photos on my phone and shared “Something incredible about him is that he can find the one strip of sunlight in the whole house, no matter how dark it is elsewhere.” He set to work, his fingers sliding across the keys, and offered to read the poem at the end. He read it, and my eyes welled up because what he’d done was capture the love I have for this furry little creature. He captured how deeply Jeffrey has embedded himself in my heart, and the way both he and I are perfectly content to be hopelessly over the moon in love with one another. I’ve never loved anything like I love Jeffrey. You can read the poem at the bottom here.
Through his words, the poet gave me the gift of seeing the love I hold for Jeffrey reflected back to me. Love doesn’t just live within us—it’s shared, magnified, and returned in ways we least expect.
Love and fear are constant companions in my life, and I often find myself asking: Am I being drawn toward love, or driven by fear? The paths may appear similar at first, but their energies couldn’t be more different. Fear is a frantic sprint, a desperate escape from imagined dangers. Love, on the other hand, is a steady, deliberate step forward—a choice to move toward what heals, connects, and sustains.“Perfect love casts out fear.” What is perfect love? “Grief is just love with nowhere to go.” Then where does it end up?
I stand by my knowing that love is the most powerful thing in this entire universe. It has saved my life over and over and over again. My mother loved me back to life after a painful breakup. I have loved my clients back to life after their hardest losses. I have loved parts of myself back out of exile, guiding them gently into my Whole Being. I have watched communities love felons, and I’ve watched them fear them too. I’ve watched people hurt, themselves and others because their fear overrode their love.
At the symphony this weekend, a unique arrangement of Oh Holy Night was played. A solo cellist led the piece, his cello absolutely crying out the message of the song. Oh, Holy Night is one of my favorites because it is a song that humbly rejoices with the end of suffering. This liminal moment is when the taste of suffering and fear are still so palpable, but our movement is decidedly towards the light. This song’s call is one of relief. The heavy heave of lungs that can stop the sprint.
The moment when Love comes and the soul feels its worth.
I love this song because it is a song of freedom, a call for the end of wars, suffering, guilt, and the arrival of Peace and Love.
Love is the name I give to so many things these days. This is the name I give to Light, to the Divine, to Healing, to the freckles on Jeffrey’s belly, and the ones on Michael’s too. Love is the name of the of the tight embrace and the tearful eyes too. The deer and the birds and the mice and the big forgiving sky, all Love. “Alright, my Love” I may say to my client as we end our session, because she is, and I am, and we are…Love.
Love is the only thing that will sustain us here earthside, please interpret that in whatever way will help you to be a love-filled and gentle person. A soft heart in a cold world worth warming. Cling to Love and let it show you your soul’s worth.
A simple question if this morning is just too busy to read the whole piece: What would Love have you do?
Thank you for joining me over the last four weeks in this Advent series. I’ll see you in the New Year, with the same heart.
Love indeed! Thank you, again, for your precious thoughts. And
"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot contain it".