“Isn’t it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive~it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn’t be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there?” ~Anne Shirley

Lucy Maud Montgomery from Anne of Green Gables


Sunlight streams through the window, first time in days. We are desperate here for the rain and for once I haven’t complained. I have savored the darkness, white lights twinkling all around. The hush that has settled over me. Settled through darker days, where I am prone to curl up underneath my blanket and turn the pages of a good book. To simply stare out the window as Anne Shirley often did and ponder the world, the weariness we hold, the wonder of this Advent season.

The sunlight streaming in, a rude interruption, shining across calendar pages, days turning over with relentless speed. A tree bereft of gifts.

I have fallen into the rabbit hole of on~line shopping, extracted and tugged myself from the comfort of home, stepped out in the fray of crowds and deals, only to come up empty handed. Can I tell you how much this frightens me? I have a mere few gifts and a large population of those I love and enjoy picking out that one personal thing that says, “I see you.”

My Soul Sister came by a day or so ago, bless her, she doubles, triples,  as my on board therapist, life coach, Trader Joe’s delivery person, deliverer of home made soups, and Starbucks’ white mochas, tall, skinny, light on the whip.

She noticed the lack of gifts, the vast emptiness beneath the tree.

I simply cannot put my finger on it, other than to say, this has been one glaringly hard year.

The season of daily injections in my stomach that laid me out flat. My Sweet Man collapsing before my eyes as the dog ran in wild eyed panic. My Precious Mama’s broken hip, the months we spent on bended knee praying a new life into this world, whole and healthy, and so much more.

I can’t explain it. Somewhere along the way seems I misplaced my sense of wonder and awe. Call it PTSD  or perhaps it is simply the trickle down effect of a year fraught with terrifying, life altering events.



 I long to treasure what I have, what I see before me, those I hold in my heart.


The wonder of it all.

I spent hours with Rachel McAdams reading Anne of Green Gables into my ears, deep into my soul. Hours staring at the Lake of Shining Forest, running through The Haunted Wood. Smiling when words such as tragical and magical weaved in and out. Hysterically laughing at the three year grudge against Gilbert Blythe because he called her “Carrots.”

The orphan waif with red hair and silver eyes peering out her window, finding the beauty around her. She has taught me much these past weeks. Taught me to see the beauty I hold before me. To relish in the warmth of sun. Her story, with anything but storybook prettiness wrapped up in a bow, has given me a light hearted joy.

I’ll get the gifts. wrap them with love, I figure I’ll skate in just under the deadline, much like Anne often did.

I will giggle and laugh, savor and smile. I’ll not feel guilty in the undone.

I will stretch the season of Advent slow and linger there in wonder and awe.

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You can find the latest release of Anne of Green Gables, narrated by Rachel McAdams on Audible. Try Audible free for a limited time: 

Gifts of Grace