I love the sequence of holidays in December — we celebrate Christmas, and then one week later, the arrival of the New Year. Our Christmas celebrations allow us to ponder the miraculous birth of our Savior and His miraculous life and mission that followed. This opportunity to ponder on Jesus Christ and His life lead straight into New Year’s, when we consider the coming year and typically resolve to improve and do better in our lives. The Savior’s example is our best guide as to how we ought to live and that we can ponder the greater meaning of these holidays in tandem shines a new light on the opportunity…

There is so much that I love about the Christmas story. I love the humbleness and innocence, the inconvenience and chaos, the hope and promise. Such an unlikely gathering of people. Mary and Joseph alone in a stable with shepherds and angels in a nearby field and later three kings from a far away place. Over the years, I have identified with many of the players in the story. I have been the new mother, tired and bewildered but in love with my infant. I have been the good shepherd, abiding with my little flock — feeding them, keeping them warm and safe and counting them every night. I have…

“Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him” (Matthew 2:1-2). The star of Bethlehem is one of my favorite Christmas images. I love the symbolism of light and I think the single star shining brighter than all the rest is beautiful in its simplicity. Although, I’ve been wondering if I imagine it wrong. Herod had not noticed a star. He was not the only one who…

I have always loved Christmas. The lights. The nativities. The trees. The prettily wrapped packages. Reminders to be a little more giving, a little more charitable. It is also a time of great nostalgia for me. Memories of sleeping in a room with all my siblings eagerly awaiting Santa. Acting out and reading the Nativity scene. And simply lots of time spent with family. Joy. Laughter. Reflections. It has always been such a wonderful time of year for me. But last year as I went to put up the Christmas decorations, my heart was unusually heavy. Singing “Joy to the World!” didn’t match my mood. Instead, these words felt more…

Shortly after we moved to Boston, I learned the story behind the Christmas tree on the city’s Common. Every year it is given by the people of Nova Scotia as an expression of gratitude for Massachusetts’ response to a devastating disaster. A few weeks before Christmas in 1917, a munitions ship exploded in the Halifax harbor, setting the city ablaze. Thousands were killed and thousands more were wounded. Almost immediately the Governor of Massachusetts reached out with a telegram offering assistance: “Massachusetts stands ready to go to the limit in rendering every assistance you may be in need of.” That telegram went unanswered — the telegraph system had been destroyed.…

O my deare hert, young Jesu sweit, Prepare thy creddil in my spreit, And I sall rock thee to my hert, And never mair from thee depart. But I sall praise thee evermoir With sanges sweit unto thy gloir; The knees of my hert sall I bow, And sing that richt Balulalo. This text, which I know from Benjamin Britten’s setting in the Ceremony of Carols has always amused me a little. A cradle in the spirit? The knees of my heart?? This afternoon, I went to my nephew’s baptism. The font had filled more slowly than expected, so the water was shallow. Before the service began, my brother coached his son…