Today, I give myself in honor of the spirit of Christmas, the gift of Magic.
Now that I’m close to my Grama’s age when she took pen in hand, I’ve come to see a new kind of Christmas magic also. It isn’t the loud kind — it’s the quiet shimmer that shows up on the Carson River when it seems the world is slowing down. My body is aware; aware of the feeling that something tender is stirring beneath the surface, something I can’t quite name, but when I sense it, I know it.
It’s the way light bends in winter.
It’s memory and hope sipping the same breath.
It’s the small warmth that finds meu even when I am not looking.
Today’s gift is simply this:
Let yourself believe that wonder still happens, that grace can arrive softly,
and that the season contains more light than you expect.
Journal Prompt:
Where within does the magic of Christmas still live in my life, even in small or hidden ways?
Write about a moment — recent or long ago — when you felt wonder, warmth, or an unexpected lightness.
What made that moment feel magical?
What part of you is still open to that kind of magic now?
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