The season is arriving the way it always doesāsoft at first⦠then suddenly everywhere. Lights in windows. Songs in grocery aisles.A kind of collective remembering.
And with it comes the old pressure: lists, carts, wrapping paper, deadlines, receiptsāthe loud, glittering chorus of more.
But under all of thatā¦thereās a quieter invitation.
To return to what canāt be bought to remember what actually lasts.
Because the truest gifts of the season donāt come with bows.
They come like this:
- a call you almost didnāt make
- a name spoken with tenderness
- Forgiveness offered without a speech
- a chair pulled out for someone who feels alone
- a story told again⦠because it matters who remembers it
- a moment of peace where fear used to sit
- a āIām hereā that costs nothingāand means everything
This time of year holds many sacred languages. Some call it Christmas. Some call it light returning. Some call it love, community, mercy, remembrance, or grace. Whatever words you use, most of us are longing for the same thing:
To belong to-To be seen To be heldāwithout having to earn it.
So hereās our gentle question for Kettle & Candle this week:
What is one āspiritual giftā you want to give (or receive) this seasonāsomething you canāt put in a box?
If you want a few prompts to choose from, pick one:
- A gift Iām giving this year is⦠(presence, patience, listening, honesty, kindness, repair)
- A gift Iām craving is⦠(peace, time, forgiveness, laughter, rest, belonging)
- One small ritual that brings me back to what matters isā¦
- A person I want to reach forābefore the season passesāis⦠(no details needed)
If your season is joyful, bring that joy here. If your season is tender or complicated, bring that too. Thereās room at this table for all of it.
šÆļø Put the kettle on⦠Weāll meet each other in the simple, sacred things.