18 December 2025…

This blog is raw and unedited as have been my thoughts and feelings.

For the last two weeks I’ve been trying to “sort out” the words for a light and positive blog about the lights of the time of year. Hanukkah is underway, the solstice is the weekend, Christmas is in a week and right after Christmas, Kwanzaa starts. People decorate and celebrate surrounded by light. My front and side doors are decorated with lights as is my side yard. My trees (I have two) shine with light each evening and this year I’ve set up a number of miniature light sets that are on timers and come on as the sun goes down. There is a candle in my window sending a welcome to all who see it.

I wanted my blog to be about that. About how peaceful and beautiful it is to sit with only the lights of the season shining. My body and mind rest when I turn off other lights and allow myself the time to soak in the atmosphere.

As so often seems to be the case, other events intruded and I didn’t write any blog. Let me go through the elements that impacted my ability to write.

Last Friday I was driving home from a short visit to my hometown. Since I wasn’t sure of the greeting I would receive as it’s been months since I’ve been in my hometown Legion, I was feeling a sense of relief on the drive home. The Legion is a cornerstone of my memories. It’s where my dad often stopped before going home at the end of the day which I’m sure made it a bone of contention between my parents. It’s where the old-timers sit around and talk about the days gone by. It’s where I would meet up with my uncle until he was too ill. It’s where the celebrations of life have taken place for most of my deceased family members. It’s familiar and comforting. But I was nervous because I no longer have family members living in my hometown and in the past I’ve a little less than welcome. Although a Legion member, I am not a regular attendee. On my drive home I appreciated all the beautiful Christmas light displays as I relaxed after a good visit with people who did welcome me back. Phew. So, I didn’t have any qualms about writing the blog over the weekend and getting it published on Sunday.

On Saturday, I was busy doing my Christmas baking in preparation of filling tins for friends and family. It was a good day with lots of yummy scents filling my kitchen. I was feeling pleased with myself as the day came to an end and I prepared to join a friend at a concert in the city. I dressed up, feeling festive and set out in my car. As I often do, I listened to two different news channels on the drive. As I listened, I heard about how a couple of hours earlier a shelter in place order was instituted at a university in the U.S. There was an active shooter on the loose. Two people were known at the time to be dead and eight injured (turned out to be nine). I listened, horrified that once again there was a mass shooting aimed at innocents. Five hours later as I drove the return trip I couldn’t help myself and listened to the same stations as they provided updates. The shooter had yet to be found.

Sunday I was driving to mass and since my radio was already tuned to the news I heard about the terrorist attack at Bondi Beach in Australia. 15 people had been killed attending a Hanukkah celebration. By the time I got to church I was in shock. 40 more people were injured in the attack. Two gunmen, father and son, were responsible. And why? Because they were Jewish?

I got home from my own church celebration, opened my laptop to write and just stared at it. How could I write about the lights of the season when humanity seems determined to snuff them out? I closed the laptop and puttered around the house. I didn’t watch, listen to, or read anymore news on Sunday. I’ll admit, I’m tired of how often seasons of joy are impacted by violence. I played Christmas music as the background for my puttering - finished baking, did some reading and finally ended the night with a movie.

Because of that, it wasn’t until I awoke on Monday morning and looked at my phone that I discovered Rob and Michele Reiner had been killed in their home on Sunday. Tragedy upon tragedy. AND punctuated by a narcissistic, egomaniac U.S. President on social media saying that Rob Reiner was killed because he upset people by being anti-Trump. What the hell??

Here it is, the 18th of December, one week from Christmas Day. This is my favourite time of year. I still believe in Santa Clause, although perhaps not in the same way I did as a child. I love the pageantry of the season and the base purpose for me is the birth of Jesus. If you don’t believe, that’s okay. If your religion is different from mine and isn’t about destruction, I will stand for your rights. I don’t believe in radicalism and I don’t think I’m alone. At the core, I believe most people are good. I think some people are easily swayed and become vulnerable to extremism. I’m fearful for those who can’t find their way out of the darkness - fearful of them and fearful for them. One week until Christmas and I can’t find the words to write a blog about lightness and joy.

Last night I was at a meeting with other authors. I took everyone baked goods and another member brought the cutest notebooks and pens. We followed our regular agenda BUT we spoke of the season with happiness. We wished each other the best of the season as we split up at the end. I stepped out of the café with brighter thoughts than when I entered. I listened to music on my drive home, consciously avoiding my news channels.

I got home and plugged in my living room tree and sat with just the lights glowing. No music. No noise. No rush. Just the peaceful warmth of the tree lights. A short while later I climbed the stairs to bed, went through my regular routine and snuggled down. As I pulled the covers up, my eyes closed in exhaustion. Seven hours later I awoke to the call of my alarm. I slept through the night.

I needed the peace that I received from the lights on my tree. I needed the break and calm. The silence. The easing of pain from the last week. The serenity I wasn’t sure was possible. No social media. No arguments. No foul words. No anonymous commenting online with zero accountability. Just the warm glow of hope from the beauty of a Christmas tree.

I hope as this season continues and you celebrate (or not) in your own fashion, that you are able to find some of the peace and contentment that I am actively pursuing. Pray for those whose lives ended in violence. Pray for those left behind to carry them in their hearts and memories. Hold your loved ones near.

I’ve shared this picture before but I hope you won’t mind seeing it again.