We left the gathering, an annual one that’s held in a building adjacent to a country home. The barn-like place is love-filled, its walls are covered with memorabilia and photos representing life and the life spans of family.

We arrive and we move from table to table, from people not seen in a year or so and maybe a couple or a few you may have passed in the grocery store.

The conversations are sweet, it’s a catching up and it’s a reunion for the cousins. They love it. They recognize many families neglect this type gathering.

The one who prays acknowledges this. I mostly observe. I join in and say words when it seems to fit.

That’s not because of the “rules” of the get-together. It’s simply my nature.

My mama used to tell us all that her husband, my daddy saw no need to speak unless there was something important to say.

Although, he was a quiet man, one of few words, I cherish the smoothness of his voice.

I remember the way he paused as he spoke. There was a sense of waiting for the hearer to absorb his contribution.

I listened.

A word woke me this morning.

I added it to my list, a list that came from a realization that in life and in Christmas, we often have grandiose expectations.

We expect Christmas be a certain way. Not to mention the comparison of others’ celebrations.

I wondered how my heart would settle if I decided to

“Expect less, acknowledge more.”

A list was formed.

Safety, Food aplenty, Gifts, Smiles, Gatherings, a sense of God’s nearness, Pink Dawns…

Quietude

Google informed me of the meaning, no surprise I loved it.

Another gift came from Google, a sweet surprise. This word has a color named for it.

A shade that’s a blending of grey and blue and green.

“Quietude” is the chosen name for the HGTV 2025 color.

I finished the 3rd of three paintings last night, large 30×40’s.

The first, “Now Found”,

the second, “Light and Momentary”

and the third, “Have Hope”.

Driving home from the cousin gathering, my husband wanted to talk. I told him I was talked out, let’s be quiet.

He insisted and prodded me with a well-thought question…

“Who would you like to talk to that you’d be just so captivated by the conversation, on the edge of your seat and just waiting for every word?”

Stubborn me replied, after a few seconds, “No one, that’s a good question but I can’t think of anyone I want to talk to right now.”

He believed me. He knows me well.

But, he spoke in the long pause of accepting my answer.

“I thought you’d say Jesus.”

“Yes, I just thought of that.” I smiled and answered.

We finished the Christmas Eve country drive home and I sat in my quiet spot with my grown son who is often quiet himself.

Understood, I felt understood.

“Accepted”, a word I’m adding to the list of acknowledgments.

“Grace”, too.

Just now, I revisited Christmases past through my photos. Babies have grown, changes have come, tough days have occurred, peace has been given and endurance has become even more a quiet strength for me.

Because I’ve learned and am learning a couple of things from my “telling it to Jesus alone.”

He giveth more grace.

I am loved.

There’s so much more coming for me.

Because I’ve accepted, I’m the “quiet one” and always will be.

“But I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭131‬:‭2‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Always hope.

I look toward my tall Christmas tree, the one ornament, a tiny home, my granddaughter insisted be for it and my uncertainty because it “wasn’t really me.”

And now I see, the bluish green, a pale teal that’s happy quietly although boldly, its pretty red door sort of calling, “open me”.

How can it be?

The color in me, the quiet color has become an invitation to me being me.

A little house accepted by me, inviting an even bolder acceptance of the strength in the choice to keep hoping.

“As for me, I will always have hope; I will praise you more and more.”
‭‭Psalms‬ ‭71‬:‭14‬ ‭NIV‬‬