It’s the season of anticipation—the kind where hope-filled expectation seems to glow from every street corner. Front yards sparkle with lights, glitter, and mistletoe, and the air itself feels charged with wonder. You can hear it every morning: the determined footsteps of a child pounding down the stairs, eager to search for the elf and whatever mischief he’s gotten into overnight. And each evening, there’s the quiet comfort of knowing it’s one sleep closer to the big day.
As I walked into the house after an epic Target Christmas run, my 6-year-old nearly tackled me, immediately grabbing for those unmistakable red bags.
“Mama, what did you bring me? Did you get me anything?” she asked, eyes wide.
“Maybe…” I replied slowly, a knowing smile creeping across my face.
“Can I have it now?!” she practically screamed with excitement. “I really want it now! I’ve been so good today!”
“I know,” I said gently, “but it’s a surprise—and you love surprises.” I reminded her of what she herself had asked for.
“But I want to know what it is, and it’s almost Christmas! Please, Mama! I can’t wait anymore.”
I bent down and scooped her into my arms. Looking into her big brown eyes, overflowing with longing and hope, I whispered, “Trust me. It will be so much better on Christmas. You’ll be so glad you waited.” I kissed her forehead, set her down, and shooed her off.
As she ran upstairs to find her sister, I laughed out loud. Girl, will you just let me plan this surprise! I thought.
And then I stopped—because I felt it. That familiar nudge. That quiet whisper that always carries undeniable truth, settling deep into the recesses of my soul.
“Isn’t that how you are with Me?”
I paused, nodded slowly, and answered honestly. “Yes. All the time.” Then I smiled. “You’re right… You really are.”
This is how God speaks to me—through the ordinary moments of my very normal life. Along this faith journey, I’ve learned to pay attention, because everything has the power to speak if we’re listening and expecting.
Lately, I’d been asking questions about the future. About the unknown. About those places that feel dark only because I physically can’t go there yet. What’s going to happen when…? The familiar “what if” thoughts I know so well as a therapist—those anxious spirals that leave us uncertain and afraid. Wondering if the twists and turns ahead will land us in a worst-case scenario, and if they do, what then?
And sometimes we imagine the worst because we’ve already lived it.
For those of us who live in Connecticut, Christmas carries a weight that will never fully lift. There is a reality forever etched into our hearts from 12/14—a day that began much like this one, filled with Santa letters and wrapped gifts under a tree that would never be opened. It’s the ache that returns each year, the quiet understanding that for some, grief grows three sizes too big every Christmas. For those who truly lost everything that day, the season will never be the same.
That was the only day in my life when I questioned God. I questioned whether He saw us, heard us, or truly knew the depth of the pain that entered the world that day. I wanted answers immediately. I wanted to understand it all in that moment—and in my distress, I sounded a lot like my 6-year-old.
Yet even then, and still now, I know He has never been a God who ignores or minimizes our pain, our deepest longings, or our unmet needs. He listens. He hears every bit of it. Even the faintest thoughts we dismiss as insignificant—He remembers them. And one day, somehow, He will make sense of it all. In the meantime, there is light in the darkness—a light that comforts, steadies, and illuminates the path forward one step at a time.
I knew what my child needed. I knew how much more magical it would be if she waited until Christmas morning for the big reveal, even if she couldn’t understand it yet. I knew that waiting was good, though looking at her sweet face bursting with anticipation, I desperately wanted to give her everything right then and end her frustration.
I’ve begun to see God like this—a passionate parent, a loving mother carefully planning every detail of her daughter’s surprise, waiting to unveil it at just the right moment, when it will have the most beautiful and powerful impact. And I’ve also come to realize that some gifts, though lovingly wrapped and full of promise, won’t be opened this side of eternity.
I’ve learned that on the darkest nights, the stars shine brightest. And so, once again, I choose to look for the light in the darkness.
Isn’t that what this season is really about?
And so, I wait. Sometimes impatiently, like my daughter. Other times with quiet hope, trusting that every detail is being thoughtfully prepared. I believe what I need to know for today will be placed gently in front of me—and that is enough. And what is still to come, intentionally and lovingly planned by the One who adores me, will be revealed at just the right time—far beyond anything I could ask or imagine.
