Winter 2025 Blog

Rockin’ Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

Settling in Before the Snow

Late autumn has a way of pausing right at our feet — crisp leaves edged in frost, sunlight thinning into a gentler gold. It’s that brief, tender season when the world isn’t quite winter yet, but it’s no longer fall either. A time of quiet readiness.

This in-between space often stirs a familiar instinct: to settle in. To tidy up what the year has scattered, to put garden beds to rest, to bring out the warmer coats and heavier blankets. Even inside the heart, we begin sorting and deciding what needs keeping, what needs letting go, and what needs preparing for the colder months ahead.

There is a special kind of wisdom in this gentle preparation. Not rushing into festivities, not leaping into the glitter of holidays, but honoring the simple work of readiness. Lists begin, small tasks call our name, but there’s still a softness to it — a slower breath before winter truly arrives.

May this season of quiet preparation bring calm order to your days, and may every small task guide you gently toward the warmth ahead.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin’ Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

The Stillness That Isn't Still

Frosty mornings can fool the eye. At first glance, everything looks hushed with grass bowed beneath ice, trees stripped bare, the world muted into blue-gray silence. Yet this is one of nature’s busiest seasons, a time when the quiet hums with hidden preparation.

Plants have ripened their last berries to feed winter birds and wandering deer. Woolly-boolys inch across the path, whispering their fuzzy weather forecasts. Oaks hold on to their leaves for months longer, saving them as cold-season meals for wildlife. Beneath the frozen soil, roots strengthen and settle, gathering themselves for the spring that will one day return.

Even the creatures we seldom see are tidying their homes. Burrows are cleaned, food tucked away, nests lined for deep rest. Winter looks still, but life is working gently, faithfully, just out of sight.

May you honor the quiet labors of your own life, trusting that even in stillness, your roots are growing strong beneath the frost.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

When the Lights Come Early

Every year, it seems the sparkle arrives sooner. Even before Thanksgiving leftovers are tucked away, towns begin twining lights around lampposts, stores hum with early music, and windows glow with scenes of what’s coming next. For some, it’s a welcome burst of cheer; for others, it feels like the calendar is running ahead of itself.

I remember when this early brightness first took hold. For me, it was during the Vietnam War. Families wanted their holiday boxes to reach loved ones far from home, so preparations began earlier and earlier. Stores followed suit, and soon entire communities joined in, sending love, hope, and a bit of comfort across oceans. Small towns transformed into twinkling fairylands, where children’s wishes floated as freely as the first snowflakes.

For those of us who like our seasons in tidy, respectful order, it can feel a little disquieting to be rushed into winter magic before autumn has finished its final bow. But the world shifts its rhythms, and we shift with it. Expectation, like snowfall, arrives when it will, swirling softly, insisting on its own timing.

May this early shimmer bring you gentle anticipation, and may your heart stay steady in its own perfect season.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

The First Snowfall's Reminder

The first real snowfall always seems to take us by surprise. We know it’s coming because the forecasts say so, the sky hints at it and, yet, that moment when the world turns white feels sudden, almost startling. Life becomes delicate again. Roads turn slick, cars drift where they shouldn’t, and even the surest drivers feel that jolt of fear when brakes don’t catch and the world keeps sliding.

In those few breathless seconds, we’re reminded how fragile we truly are. A skid toward a snowbank, a near miss with a family heading to a holiday gathering, a pedestrian bundled against the cold, every winter asks us to relearn caution, patience, respect. And each year, we begin again, as if the lessons melt away with spring.

Yet there is a strange gift in this forced slowing. Traffic crawls, music becomes clearer, conversations deepen, and our minds wander into places we’ve been too busy to visit. In the hush of snowfall, we remember things, what matters, who matters, how delicate and precious each day really is.

May this winter’s quiet moments guide you gently inward, and may each pause remind you of the grace in simply being alive.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

The Holiday Streets We Remember

There was a time when holiday streets brimmed with people, their arms full of packages, children tugging mittens, store windows glowing like storybooks. Today, with so much shopping done online, those bustling sidewalks can feel like memories pressed between the pages of an old album. The pace has changed, and with it, the way we move through the season.

Even so, the air still carries that unmistakable hum of anticipation. Communities refill the gaps with tree lightings, parades, school concerts, winter markets, and Santa popping up in every corner ready to listen to dreams whispered with small voices. Joy reshapes itself, finds new paths, new doorways, new traditions.

But beneath the lights and celebrations lies another truth, unfortunately, the quiet ache of hunger, loneliness, lost connections, and homes that no longer shelter. There are always more needs than answers, more heartbreaks than helpers. Yet in our own neighborhoods, we can ease a little of that weight. A meal, a coat, a donation, a moment of compassion, these small offerings ripple farther than we know.

And in the midst of all our giving, we sometimes lose our patience, snapping at clerks, fuming over the “perfect gift,” forgetting the spirit we meant to hold. But grace has a way of stitching the season back together. Somehow, despite our faults and fumbles, the heart of the holiday keeps shining through.

May this season soften your steps, deepen your kindness, and remind you how even the smallest generosity can warm a winter night.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

Snowfall and the Work Beneath the Wonder

There’s something magical about snow upon snow, yards transformed into playgrounds of imagination, perfect for building forts, rolling snowmen, and stretching out to make angels with mittened hands. Winter carries a childlike invitation to play, to marvel at the soft hush that blankets everything in sight.

Yet even in all that wonder, there is work. Walkways need clearing again and again. Steps must be shoveled, cars brushed off, paths dug so we can reach the garage or mailbox. No matter how lovely the snowfall, someone still has to shoulder the less glamorous tasks. That’s the way of life, too, beauty and burden arriving hand in hand.

Faith often asks the same of us. Alongside comfort and serenity comes the challenge of choosing our path, of facing the darker corners within ourselves. Even the most peaceful face may be quietly wrestling with decisions, doubts, or difficult days. Winter simply makes the contrast easier to see: serenity above, effort below.

But each morning brings its own reassurance. When the sun rises, the world glows again with soft gold spilling across icy branches, reminding us that nothing stays heavy forever. Light always finds its way through.

May the sunrise touch your worries with warmth, and may each new day guide you gently toward hope.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

The Spirit That Visits Every Home

And then comes that special night, the one wrapped in stories, whispered hopes, and the belief that something wondrous moves through the dark. Not everyone holds the same name for that figure in the red suit. Some say Santa Claus, others Kris Kringle, Saint Nicholas, Father Christmas, or one of the many beautiful names carried across cultures and oceans. But the heart of it is the same everywhere: a wish for goodness to reach the next generation.

It isn’t really about whether the stories are true in a literal sense. It’s about what they awaken in us, that gentle tug to think of others, to dream for them, to bring a little delight into their world. In a life that can be heavy, complicated, and deeply human, there’s no harm in holding space for miracles, especially the small ones that travel quietly from heart to heart.

Children need that spark, that sense of magic and possibility. And if we’re honest, adults do too. Who among us hasn’t longed for one perfect gift, not extravagant, but meaningful and shared only with someone who truly understands? The size of the present never matters; the intention always does. A handmade treasure can carry more love than the most expensive item in the shop.

This season invites us back to what matters most: family, compassion, good humor, the desire to be better, and perhaps a gentle reminder not to indulge quite so heartily at the dessert table.

May the spirit of giving touch your home with warmth, wonder, and the quiet joy of caring for one another.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.

Rockin' Chair Reflections is where I share gentle stories and spiritual insights from the porch.

The Quiet Between Years

After the holiday rush fades, the world rests in a different kind of stillness. Decorations come down, lights grow dim, and the streets take on a soft, emptied hush. It’s a pause -- not sad, not joyful, just spacious -- giving us room to breathe after all the gathering, giving, and going.

This is the time when reflections rise. We think about how the season touched us, or how it shaped the people around us. The gate of celebration swings open, and the excess spills out, the laughter, the tensions, the surprises, the moments we dreaded and the ones we didn’t want to end. Travelers return home replaying conversations: Who was that they brought? Why did that happen? What did they mean by that? The annual family puzzle begins its familiar rearranging.

In truth, we are changelings. We are perplexing, loving, infuriating, generous, wounded, forgiving. We bruise easily and heal slowly. We hope boldly and fear quietly. And yet, we keep showing up, year after year, trying to be better, trying to understand each other and ourselves.

The new year waits just ahead, holding its own mysteries: fulfilled hopes, dashed hopes, unexpected blessings, and hard lessons. This tender space between years holds both joy and sorrow, reminding us that being human is always a bittersweet dance.

May this quiet turning of the year soften your heart, deepen your wisdom, and guide you gently into whatever comes next.

To share your reflection or question, please click here. Be sure to let me know if you’d like a private response or for me to explore your question in a future blog.