Still. Waiting.

It is the second week of advent. As we wait for the sun’s return, as we listen for our deepest
knowing to awaken from these long dark nights of winter, listen to your heart. Listen to the
silence and winter calling you to know the otherness.

This is the time of endless nights growing darker. Of day’s light growing weaker in the soft
approach of winter solstice, in the coming light of the child’s birth drawing near.

This is a time when our patience grows thin as we rush about, fighting crowds and traffic,
endlessly hurrying towards one more checkmark on the list, one more item scratched off on the
gifts we must buy.

Patience is a virtue and at this time of year, a necessity. Yet, we struggle against giving it time to
grow, to take form, to inhabit our being present in the darkness of these wintery days so that we
can lean into the silence to hear the song of joy being born within our hearts.

We cannot change the course of night, just as we cannot change the path of the earth moving
around the sun. Winter will pass in its time, and whether we wait with calm heart, or battle
against time’s slow passing, the sun will appear upon the horizon, raising itself up into the sky,
with or without our permission. No matter how many items are checked off on our list, the sun
will return, days will lengthen and nights will grow shorter. The cycle of time passing will continue,
again and again, in its ever ending circle of life.

This is a time when I seek that place of quiet within where I can hear my heart giving birth to the
new life I must call my own. This is a time when I yearn to fall into place with the world around
me and the world within me. A place where the hustle and bustle of the season wanes as I find
that place within where I know communion with the world, within and outside of me.

This is the place where I let go of that which I ‘hate’ about me and find the courage to live from my poet’s
heart rising up within me. It is in this place I sense the world through the beauty expressing
itself through my soul’s desire to give birth to the one I have been waiting for, just as over 2,000
years ago, Mary gave birth to the one she waited for, the One the world awaited.

And in this moment of quiet, as I sit in the stillness of the night, a song arises within me, and I find
myself settling into my heart. In silence I wait patiently for the sun to return, for a child to be
born, for peace, hope, love and joy to become the essence of my world.

In my waiting, I grow still. In my stillness, I hear the whisper of hope singing in dawn’s caress waiting at the edge of the horizon to push the darkness back into the night. With hope awakening, I know, anything is possible including peace, hope, love and joy for all the world.



Thank you Liz at Be. Love. Live for introducing me to Future of Forestry and this beautiful Christmas song.

7 thoughts on “Still. Waiting.

  1. What a beautifully poetic post, Louise. I can feel us settling into the same silent energy of the season. It does my soul good to feel your presence in the world and as my kindred spirit. Hugs to you. xo

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Almost There | Dare boldly

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