Twinkle, twinkle not so little tree...

Thank God for lights in the snow.

This journal entry contains no AI, written in the early hours it is lucky to contain any “I”. Fast on the heels of my last fiery post, I felt the nudge to free fall into a journal entry unfiltered and fresh to see how it goes. My journal pages have taken on a different form lately. Instead of jotting down odds and ends to clear the fog, they have become a telling, or a recording of where I am at right now. Maybe it is a leaving behind way of keeping track? Whatever is, it is what it is. I do ramble when I journal so bear with me if I venture off track. I can’t say I will keep a daily journal here, but yesterdays post felt like it needed a little ice to balance the fire.

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January 16, 2025

The view from where I sit looks out the sliding glass doors and onto the softly rounded edges of our deck. The rails are heaped with white powder snow that, give or take, is nearing a foot. The grill resembles a miniature snow capped Matterhorn and the two red Adirondack chairs could easily be mistaken for a grandmother’s overstuffed, upholstered armchairs, uncreased, as I imagine they are the “good” chairs in this snowy parlor.

Beyond the rails, darkness. There is a soft pool of warm light flowing out and across the snow from twinkle lights wound around our last standing proof of Christmas. This year we cut a fifteen foot, straight backed white pine from our woods. Getting the tree to stand in place, and stay there, was a comedy of determination. It fell twice, leaned a couple of times, and came to be known as the Ergo Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc* tree. Each time we put it up was an invitation for howling gales that promptly knocked it down. At one point the glorious crown was snapped off, shortening the tree by about three feet. The crown currently stands as a folly’s reminder planted in a deserted flower pot behind the tree. Knowing we need to replace our deck in the spring we resorted to anchor ropes attached to planks and rails, and if the tree goes now, the deck goes down with it.

Ergo Hoc stands like a peculiar hope sentinel against the darkness of long nights and dim snow filled days. It has also become an unlikely companion for early morning communion. Its light gently pushes back the darkness of bad news, bad dreams, and the unknowns of a coming day. It is the place I come to pray. I am forced to look up and away from my notes, from screens, from the miasma of lingering dreams. I must look up in order to see the whole thing. Chapters could be written about that last line…

Today when I look up I see each light twinkling-a trick of the breeze moving through the long white pine needles. Day is breaking, but not with color. It is the monochromatic filter of pale snow against dusky brown trunks. The air is, almost literally, alight with crystalline snow and as it falls around the lit tree it creates a glistening halo, like a magic trick you can see only if you are paying close attention. A quick wink from the creator that hints ‘see what I did there, just now, just for you?’.

The snow becomes heavier as darkness lifts away and each light on the tree becomes a person, or a concern, or a gratitude. I am not catholic, the truth of it is I don’t know what I am any more, but I know this glittering rosary of twinkle lights comes alive with the hopes of all I carry into prayer. The further away from ‘church’ I find myself, the more deeply I cling to what I know to be true. Some days it is hard to pray, hard to see what the world currently has on offer, hard to believe what is unfolding in what we once believed was a good and true thing, but then. Praise for the ‘but then’! But then light. But then green. But then snow. But then kindness. But then Love. But then, but then, but then, and on and on and on. He reveals himself in the ‘but then’ and I look for those moments like a powerful thirst.

After the election last year I had a moment of despair so palpable that my breathe caught and I truly did not know what to do. Children pay deep attention and have an uncanny perception when it comes to emotion and I am surrounded-in the best possible way-with grandchildren. While they knew what was going on, I knew I needed to find a way to respond with grace, compassion, and kindness. I felt a responsibility not to rail or preach, but to do something unexpected. I gathered the three I was watching that day and we ran to the grocery store to but a few things for lunch. We wandered over to the flower section and I told them each to pick out a couple of small bouquets.

We had sunflowers, and carnations, roses, daisies, and a few hydrangeas for good measure. We checked out and as we headed to doors I stopped them to explain that we were going to give all those flowers away. I asked them to pick out individuals who were finished with their shopping and give them a bouquet to brighten their day. My eight year old grand daughter asked why would we give them all away, as I knew someone would. I told them sometimes when you don’t know what to do, where to turn, the best thing is to do something kind for the people around you. I told them we didn’t need to know anything about someone to offer them kindness. It was a little scary at first, ‘but then’ they saw the reactions and they were all in. There was disbelief, bright surprise, weary gratitude, and stunned happiness. By the end they weren’t sad all the flowers were gone.

Funny thing is, occasionally, looking up at the tree lights shining away in the darkness some of those lights become the faces of strangers we gave flowers to and I offer up a prayer for them. With the inauguration just days away it is a force of will not to return to that same November feeling. I am clinging to the twinkling lights of hope…but then, I may be buying more flowers-perhaps beyond my budget this time.

(After this, therefore because of this)

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I am picking away at my TBR pile on book at a time. I also have several books I read from on a daily basis ranging from poetry to devotional as a way to focus my mind on more of the true and good and less of the news and socials.

Bright Evening Star, Mystery of the Incarnation by Madeleine L’Engle

The Longing In Between by Ivan M. Granger

Unlocking the Heart by James Crews (look for

James Crews

here on Substack and give him a follow for beautiful, gentle posts)

These are not affiliate links-just shortcuts to find great reads!

Support your favorite bookstores! Two of my favorite are Nooks, and The Bluestocking Bookshop. Any book you want, I bet they can find! I have become intentional about where I buy and order my books choosing local and small booksellers so I am supporting people and not, well, the other guys.

The grandkids have arrived for the day so it’s time for me to go…

Peace friends,

Susan