Light, snow, confession

Light comes in different forms. Sometimes it burns brightly. Sometimes it is dim. Sometimes you can see it only with the help of the shadows. Sometimes you find your own light in the reflection of someone else’s.

As humans, we are full of fault. We make mistakes – we stretch ourselves too thin, we don’t make time for the things that matter and, as a result, it shows in the way we interact with those closest to us. Sometimes it shows in the way we look at ourselves.

I have a confession. Every Advent, we wrap up our semester the first week of December so that we can focus on baking cookies, making gifts, reading Christmas/Advent stories and just enjoying the time together.  This year I didn’t finish the semester on time. We still are reading stories and enjoying Advent, but school seems to be ever-looming overhead.

Still, we take the time to enjoy the little things.

These pictures are from the snowfall the other weekend.

Our Advent wreath, four candles lit, with the oil lamp we have added this year.

A family tradition: paper snowflakes ushering the new snow hang from our kitchen lighting.

My family getting ready to explore the woods after and during the snowfall.

The stream/river by our home.

On our way back from the woods.

The lovely bright berries on the snow-covered branches.

My youngest, making a snow angel ~ the joy of making things new again!

I was content with just shoveling our driveway and playing in our yard, but my husband wanted to go out exploring. We traipsed through the woods and looked at the wetland area with a completely new perspective.

I took the opportunity to talk with my children about the miraculous change: the fall brought beautiful, rustic colors, but when the leaves fell to the ground, the earth looked a little dirtier and the once glorious, lush branches then looked dull and barren. When God painted over the tress and brittle leaves with his impressive brush full of winter-white snow, the darkness was washed away. The blanket of white illuminates the world with a freshness that can only be obtained with that first snow.  It was beautiful and blessed.

As a Catholic, Confession does this for my soul. 

Spending time looking at our own faults is incredibly humbling. Reading an examination of conscience is sobering. Just when I think I might have a handle on life, I realize I still am so far away. Confession gives me the ability to recalibrate. My soul feels lighter the moment I walk out of the confessional. Saying the words out loud brings what once was hidden in darkness into the light.

At a recent event I photographed, a combat veteran whom I admire talked with me about unfathomable grace and the power of a strong prayer life. I admire this man in so many ways, but on those occasions where we start to have deep conversations of faith, he brings a light ~ that light both inspires me and reveals darkness. I am thankful for all of the many people who hold me accountable. I also am thankful when my soul feels fresh. I am thankful for the snow.