It was over two thousand years ago, on a night we don’t know, a date we can only guess at, but it was the most important night in the entire history of the world, for it was the night that those tidings of joy were first heard and welcomed by hearts that believed. I’ve always…

“It was a labor of love,” she told me, coming to my door on a November day and handing me a tissue-wrapped package, wrinkling her nose with a smile. There’s no doubt that it was. A host of paper leaves, hand-tinted in varying hues. Tiny pictures she knew I’d love, dusted with glitter and hidden…

If you’d have been there on the night our Savior was born 2,000 years ago, would you really have believed it was Him, the Messiah?

If you’d been in Mary’s spot, would the promises of an angel have overshadowed all your other fears?

Sometimes, I have to put myself there—in that stable 2,000 years ago, or in that field, listening to the angel’s singing, or following that bright star—I have to be in that moment in history to understand the enormity of the glory of Christmas.

As I snuggle under a fleecy snowflake blanket in my cozy chair, devotionals in my lap and a cup of tea in my hand, I watch the single candle flickering in the darkness. Three more will join it as the weeks go by.

It is the beginning of Advent.