The Spirit of Winter

May the hush of the season find you...

Not the noise, not the rushing, not the endless lists—but the holy stillness underneath it all. The quiet that feels like snow settling on the world. The pause where your soul can finally breathe.

The holidays are a doorway of light where heaven leans close to earth, where the Invisible feels tenderly near, where the ancient promise whispers again: you are not alone. In the small, radiant, unguarded—we’re reminded that the Divine doesn’t always arrive with thunder. Sometimes it comes as a soft presence, a gentle turning of the heart, a warmth in the chest that says, begin again.

If this season has been sweet for you, may gratitude become a prayer on your lips. If it has been heavy, may you be held—by grace, by love, by the unseen hands of mercy.

• May peace move through you like candlelight through a dark room—quietly, patiently, making everything softer.

• May old wounds loosen their grip.

• May forgiveness feel possible.

• May hope return—not as a loud certainty, but as a steady ember that refuses to go out.

And if you’re missing someone, may your longing be met with a sacred kind of closeness. Love doesn’t vanish. It changes form. It becomes memory, blessing, and presence. It becomes the star you look toward when you don’t know the way.

Wherever you are, I pray you feel the mystic truth of this season: that you are cherished beyond measure, guided more than you realize, and invited—always invited—into the Light.

May your home be filled with peace, your spirit with wonder, and your heart with the gentle miracles of love, peace, and wonder.

Many Blessings.