O Holy Night

Fall is breathing its dying breaths and a chill settles deeper into the air. The first flakes of snow have dusted the ground leaving the world glimmering, starlight reflecting off each crystal and casting a beautifully eerie glow. Nighttime silence is unbroken save for the sound of my surreptitious breaths, which cloud in front of me as they’re slowly released. I can sense God here. An all-encompassing presence that fills the emptiness with calm despite the uncertain shadows lining the ground. For a moment, just a moment, (I refuse to allow myself longer), I am not alone, and I take comfort in His grace until I’m greeted inside by the laughter of my family and the warm glow of the fireplace. This I can be certain is real, this tangible, palpable love. This is what I’ll live with my heart set on. Where I land in the end is known only to the holy adjudicator. But as my mother’s love is enduring and unconditional (unlike His, daily damning innocents and the joyously enamored), I choose to establish my acts within such power rather than living by divine ideal.