“Arise, shine, your Light has come. His glory rises upon you.” ~ Isaiah 60:1
Snow fell over Alder Ridge like
a quiet blessing. Candles blazed through frosted windows, and lights reflected off
snow-dusted rooftops. At the end of Main Street, the old chapel waited, familiar as a childhood hymn.
Claire paused on its steps.
Christmas had always carried a quiet brilliance, but not this year. Her father
had passed shortly after last Christmas, leaving an emptiness that nothing
seemed to fill. He’d
always rung the chapel bell on Christmas Eve, sending its comforting voice
across the valley. Without him, hope had dimmed.
A quiet prayer rose from her
heart: “Lord…
meet me here.” She didn’t speak it aloud. God hears even wordless
prayers that come from broken places.
The door creaked open. Little
Ellie stepped in, wrapped snugly against the winter chill, clutching a handmade paper star. She reached up
to place it on the tree, stretching again and again, never quite high enough.
Gently, she lifted Ellie,
setting the star atop the tree. It sparkled as if delighted to be there. A small, knowing smile passed
between them, one
of those little mercies God places in everyday life. Then the tiny girl darted back
into the snow, holding onto the warmth she left behind.
Claire stayed by the tree,
watching the star tremble faintly. Her grief didn’t vanish. , but it shifted, making room for
tenderness. She felt the quiet presence of God, as if He had been sitting with
her all along, waiting for her heart to open just enough to feel Him near.
Claire studied the glittery star
and felt something shift within her. Her grief still ached. But there was a
sense that God had been there all along, waiting for the moment her heart
cracked open enough to feel Him close again.
Her gaze rose to the narrow
stairs leading to the bell tower. She climbed slowly, each step creaking like a
familiar voice. At the top, her hand wrapped around the thick rope. She drew a
deep breath, closed her eyes, and pulled.
The bell rang out - deep, clear,
alive. The sound washed over Alder Ridge like a promise, brushing past windows,
settling on weary hearts, awakening something bright in the night.
In that hush that followed,
grief remained, because
love stays. But
fear loosened, and joy could return. Christ, gentle enough to sit with sorrow
and strong enough to kindle hope, had drawn near.
Down below, the paper star shimmered with the bell’s
vibration. Claire felt it too! Hope had awakened—quiet, tender, unmistakable.
Lord Jesus, draw near to the places in us
that ache. Kindle hope where sorrow has settled. Let Your Light rise gently in
the quiet corners of our hearts, and remind us that we never walk these winter
nights alone. Amen
