The Church on Fink Hill: A Story of Light

The Church on Fink Hill: A Story of Light

It’s Christmas, season of light. The candles are lit—our tree is up. Its branches glow with pinpoints of light and hold ornaments that were once on my parents’ and even my grandparents’ Christmas trees. If you’re not Christian, or not a person of any faith at all, you might wonder why a story of Christmas would speak to you. Well, think of it this way. Have you stood breathless beneath the Northern Lights? Or noticed the peace and calm to be found in a certain quality of light? Sitting here in our candlelit house on this December evening, I feel a glow that is light and family history entwined. I glance over at the ornaments on our tree and remember a church I never saw, a church that isn’t there anymore—the church on Fink Hill.

When Only Poetry Will Do: Light in the Dark Season

When Only Poetry Will Do: Light in the Dark Season

I’m feeling the need for poetry lately. This week is the most poignant week of my year—mid-December, the dark season, with long nights and two anniversaries of loss. During this week, on different years, I lost my grandmother and my father. Each year as those anniversaries approach, I feel a growing quiet inside—it’s heart-centered, gentle, like a shadow half glimpsed. For years I didn’t understand what was at the root of my December mood, but now I do. And that’s when only poetry will do.

Donna Salli - Seated - Color

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