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Author Insight
Christmas Eve Traditions
When I was young, one of my absolute favorite part of the Christmas season was the candlelight Christmas Eve service at my little hometown church. Toward the end of the short service, we would light our candles - real candles, not battery operated, the lights would be turned out, and we held up our candles to sing Silent Night. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, and on point as a reminder of the meaning of the season. Silence. Stillness. Honor. Remembrance. Peace. Love. In my adult years, having moved far from that church, I've yet to find one the same. At the little local church my husband chose, I went last Christmas Eve to hear a sermon about loss and grief (???) and then we held battery-operated candles for a few seconds of silence. And we left. There was none of the coherence and beauty and peacefulness I'd remembered. Perhaps this year, we'll light candles at home and sing in front of the well-lit tree.
Book Excerpt
A Charleston Christmas Miracle
Presented with a sheet of watercolor paper, Sandy smiled and kissed Rose’s head again. A snowman, in the snow in the mountains, with a man, woman, and child smiling at the accomplishment, plus a well-lit Christmas tree.
“It’s me and you and Uncle Ross in the mountains with real snow and this is the snowman we made.”
“It’s beautiful. Where did you see mountains to know how to draw them so well?”
“A movie.” Caroline handed her a cup of coffee. “Freshly made.
Hazelnut.” She rubbed Rose’s head. “We’ve been watching Hallmark movies. She’s addicted.”
Ross rolled his eyes. “She’s too young for that, you know.”
“Oh, Ross, of course she’s not. They’re perfectly safe.”
“Right. For you, but then she’s not constantly trying to set you up.”
Caroline laughed. “Have a seat, Sandy. Warm up. Pull the blanket off that chair if you want it.”
Gladly giving in, she settled onto the chair.
“So.” Caroline sat across from her and filled in the silence between her and Ross. “What are your Christmas Eve traditions?”
“Me? Oh, I don’t... I’m often working. I don’t really have any.”
“Not when you were growing up, either?”
She thought of the quiet, mostly dark church services they were taken to every Christmas Eve, which she actually loved, until after service when they went home to a mostly silent dark house, was hurried through cold sandwiches and a quick warm soup, and shoved off to bed early, then yelled at twenty times when they made any noise whatsoever in their excitement. “No. Not really.
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