Today I made ornaments out of my children’s handprints.

Earlier this year, our family lost our home in the Palisades Fires. In a matter of moments,
everything familiar was gone- rooms filled with memories, keepsakes collected over the years,
even ornaments that would come out every December, each telling a story of where we’d been
and who we were then.

This Christmas, we are starting over.

As I pressed Blakely and Zealand’s hands into clay, I was struck by how small and imperfect the
prints were- lines uneven, fingers wiggling, no two the same. And yet, they are beautiful to me.
They are proof of life, or growth, of presence. Proof that even after loss, we are still here.
Advent is a season of waiting, but it’s also a season of rebuilding hope. The story of Christmas
begins now in the comfort or abundance, but in displacement- a family far from home, with no
room prepared for them. And yet, it was there, in that fragile and humble place, that God chose to
dwell among us.

Ornaments of Hope

These ornaments are our light this year. They don’t replace what was lost, but they remind us that
God is still creating something new. We’re beginning a new tradition- each year making or
gifting ornaments to one another. Memories can be rebuilt and beauty does come from ashes.
This Christmas, our tree may look different. Our home may look different. Our church home is
different. But the heart of the seasons remains the same: Emmanuel- God with us. In the waiting.
In the rebuilding. In the small hands and new beginnings.

May this season remind us all that even when we start over, we never start alone.