Merry Mighty Christmas

I recently received an email from a dear church friend who, like many friends, I have only had the briefest of exchanges with these past months. We were catching up with each other – I with our plans for the upcoming move, she sharing her remembrances of working with Air Force families as they transitioned and encouragement for Ben and I as we walk through this transitory period with each other and with the kids. We are exchanging good mailing addresses and confirming our phone numbers won’t be changing. She concluded her latest email as follows:

Merry – Mighty Christmas! The Savior Comes!

I LOVE this! Christmas holds this incredible tension that I don’t think we fully appreciate. God, our Creator, is becoming created. The sky filled with angel choirs – not one angel or two, but hundreds – all singing thunderous praise to God for this mighty miracle.

In any other story, you would expect the angels to part and the god figure to come marching down between the rank and file, perhaps on some kind of noble steed with robes flowing behind and rays of light shooting from his hair. A mighty entrance for the mighty god.

But no, no friends! And this is the (well one of the) wondrous things about our God. While the angels announce His coming, He enters our world in the arms of a simple mother, whose only cradle is small manger for animals. This weak, innocent and helpless baby is the Savior of the world. The whole world was forever changed and continues to be changed by this moment.

Photo credit: Ben Taliaferro 2020

Christmas is merry, it is a time of joyful giving and receiving, a time of spreading love and cheer. It is a season of hope, of what is to come. But Christmas is also mighty, and can inspire us to do mighty things. This Christmas, more unique than most for today’s generations, is an opportunity for such a mighty Christmas.

I’ll just give one example, because I think it is one of the most beautiful and personal for myself and my family. My dad’s mother, fondly called Grandma J, presently lives in an independent living community that is attached to an assisted living and nursing home. As you can imagine, her community has undergone some of the strictest lockdown measures and there was a period of months that she was unable to see any of her family. As the summer moved into fall, the facility began allowing for visitors, under very strict rules and always outdoors. Winter has put a damper on this visiting situation and they have struggled to find a safe way for families to visit their loved ones.

Grandma J

The staff have been so good and have managed to find an indoor space with enough distance and safety measures so that families (a maximum of 2 people at a time) can come visit for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. However, it’s only one space and the time slots are 45 minutes. Naturally, the spots are filling up quickly.

My grandmother had 2 choices. She could have, and rightfully so, frantically called each of her 5 local children to grab whatever they could so she could see someone on this holiday. It would have brought her cheer and joy to have even a little bit of family come to celebrate her.

She, however, made the mighty decision. When the visiting option was announced, she did call everyone. She called them to say to NOT take those precious few visiting spots on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. She said that there are so many residents whose families in a more normal year would only come on Christmas. If this was their one chance to see their children or grandchildren, they should have every opportunity. She has been so blessed by children who do come to visit regularly, she can sacrifice visits on these special days so someone else can enjoy them.

This is love. This is love for others, even others you may not know. Grandma J is 90+ years old. Even if Covid wasn’t a thing, this could very well be her last Christmas. She knows it, we know it. And still, she chose the hard but mighty Christmas. What an incredible inspiration she is, for me and for our whole family. I hope for you as well.

I’d like to wish each of you, dear readers, a Merry and a Mighty Christmas.

An Autumn Year

As August was coming to a close I began to update my planner for September. Typically, I will schedule events in the monthly overview and then once that month draws near I will write the events on their appropriate days in the daily spreads. I have a monthly sticker subscription (remember, if it’s pretty and took effort I’m more likely to use it) which I was also using to spruce things up for September. One of the larger stickers which serves as pure decoration and inspiration, no specific planning purpose in mind, had this quote:

Autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go

I was so struck by this simple observation. While winter in the plant world is usually looked upon as a season of death, cold, solitude, isolation and barrenness, autumn has very different qualities. Autumn, for many plants, is about the process of dying or at the very least, a time of loss. But how beautiful is that process! The fall colors, vibrant in so many places with golds, oranges, reds, even purples. Whole forests become riots of color everywhere you turn. Our tables are laden with the fruits and vegetables of the harvest, while the plants which bore them are becoming shriveled, leaves withering as their last ounces of energy are given up to their produce. We look lovingly upon them all the same, thankful for the gifts they have given us. Where before satisfaction was found in a field bursting with life, those feelings have shifted to empty fields, the fullness to be found in bales of hay or well stocked barns. Days are shortening and the rituals of warm pumpkin spiced lattes, fireside evenings, read alouds and pumpkin patches beckon us to slow down and savor the daylight.

In a way, 2020 has had an Autumn spirit about it. Much has been lost this year – school days, work days, schedules, vacations, a sense of certainty about tomorrow. We are still grappling with loss, so many of our world have lost loved ones to coronavirus. Others have lost jobs without assurances of where work will come from next. Others, while still maintaining job security, have lost their routines which have been replaced with juggling acts of work, child care, virtual learning and e-grocery shopping. There are still thousands of assisted living and nursing home residents who are not permitted to visit with their families, to leave their facilities or engage in regular activities. This Autumn year has affected everyone.

As we enter into actual autumn, I am hoping to use the changing season to investigate my own heart and perceptions of this year. This has been an extremely difficult year and it is not going to get any easier. But when we look at the seasons, every single year has a difficult autumn. While we see the autumn colors and think to ourselves, “Wow, how beautiful!” what is actually happening is those leaves are dying. We are marveling at death.

Perhaps it is because we already know that the beautiful death we are witnessing is not the end of the story for those trees. We are able to see the beauty, and even take joy, in death because we know that after a time, spring will come. Where there was once death, life will once more burst forth.

This is the hope I have for 2020. We are living within an Autumn, and from where we are sitting, it is difficult to see the colors. But the colors are there! Change is extremely difficult and painful, but change is one of the most beautiful things to witness. Voices are being heard where before they were absent. People are perceiving the world with new eyes and recognizing where their community has thrived and where it has failed.

Right now we may feel as the inhabitants of Narnia felt in C.S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, where it is “always winter, but it never gets to Christmas.” The hope I see, the hope I hope you all can see, is that Aslan is coming. Spring will come again. It may be a different sort of spring that we are used to. There may be different flowers about, new vegetables to try, new routines and ways of life. But spring will come.

There are things in 2020 that we have learned to let go of. There are things we are holding onto so tightly it is clouding our vision of how to move forward toward spring. Rather than responding in anger to what we cannot control, let’s use this autumn season to pause and see the colors that surround us. Let us appreciate this season for what it is, rather than wishing for what it isn’t.


  • What is something you have had to let go of this 2020 year? How did you feel in the moment you had to let it go? How do you feel about it now?
  • What is something positive that has happened this year? Can you connect this positive moment with a loss preceding it which made it possible?
  • What are you angry or upset about? Is it something beyond your control? What is one thing you can do, learn, or adjust that could help you soften your anger and think of a more constructive attitude toward the problem?
  • What are you nervous about as September and the fall season are upon us? What is one thing you can do, learn or adjust in your life which will help you come up with a plan to tackle the days ahead with positivity and purpose?
Daily Graces. kktaliaferro.wordpress.com

Who is My Neighbor? – Catholicmom.com

In the Parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus concretely defines who our neighbor is. Our neighbor is whoever needs our help, regardless of situation, status, skin color, or belief. Even more broadly, our neighbor is the Other, anyone who is outside of ourselves. Jesus’ ultimate example, which we are preparing to immerse ourselves in during this Lenten season, is His Passion, Death and Resurrection. Jesus’ sacrifice for us illuminates the essence of true love: willing the good of the other.

In these times of both intense closeness and intense separation due to COVID-19, I believe it would be helpful to pause and marvel at what we are achieving as a society.

Continue reading at Catholicmom.com