Peace calms my soul.
It's not so hard for me to claim these gifts; they ground and steady my feet for the journey.
Joy?
It is effervescent, fleeting, airy. It doesn't seek to help me ground and center myself, rather, it irrationally launches my heart into the heights. There, at the apex of the leap, my inner camera takes a quick snapshot of the beauty, which I then store deep within, tucked away with other treasured memories. Stumbling across these moments, even years later, often brings a wistful tear or two to my eye. I suppose it's because I'm greedy - I so would love to stay in the moments; to not let life carry me on past them.
The pink candle in the wreath symbolizes the joy of anticipation. The end of this season of waiting for the child to be born, waiting for the days to begin to grow longer, waiting for the cycle of the seasons to begin anew, is near. That's a good thing, eh?
I'm not feeling it this year. Which frustrates me.
But I lit the taper anyways and watched it burn for a while, reflecting on the concept of Joy, since the reality was clearly not within my grasp. As I sat, the echoes of Joys past started bubbling up, just in case I had begun to forget how it feels to be joyful, and needed a reminder.
And then, maybe, just maybe, a new, tentative, bubble appeared.
This, too, shall pass.
All shall be well, all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
Yes.
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