The Commotion of Christmas While Sunday, November 29, starts the Advent season, the world around me tries to tell me otherwise.
Even before He made the world, God loved us and chose us in Christ to be holy and without fault in His eyes.
As a young girl, I loved climbing the enormous Weeping Willow tree in the corner of our backyard. My brother and I competed to see who could scale the highest—and get down the quickest.
Suddenly it’s August and so hot, a breathless hot—heavy and ripe. I wash plump cherry tomatoes, pop one in my mouth;
Mom sat across the table, picking at her chef’s salad. “Will you shave my head when my hair starts falling out?” she asked.