Advent Week 2: Peace
Peace is not passive or polite.
This week shows us that peace has a spine. It stands at the door like St. Ambrose, insisting that mercy matters more than power. It sings like Mary, whose Magnificat rearranges the furniture of the universe. It ghosts us and returns again, tugging us back to God when we’re striving our way into exhaustion.
Peace is scarce in a world that feels feverish with fear and division. And yet, in big and small ways, peace keeps breaking in. It comes close in the story of Our Lady of Guadalupe, a reminder that God takes on flesh and speaks our languages. It flickers through the candle crowns of St. Lucia, insisting that light belongs even to the longest nights.
This week we light the second candle—the candle of peace—and remember that Christ’s peace does not wait for calm. May this be a week when we practice peace in ordinary ways, welcome it when it surprises us, and trust that even the faintest light is enough.
This week’s reflections:
Each devotion will go live early that morning, so be sure to refer back to this list as you journey through the weeks of Advent.
Sunday, December 7 — Advent Day 8: Peace That Stands at the Door
Monday, December 8 — Advent Day 9: Mary’s Protest Song
Tuesday, December 9 — Advent Day 10: Peace keeps ghosting me.
Wednesday, December 10 — Advent Day 11: Imagine peace, anyway.
Thursday, December 11 — Advent Day 12: God cannot give what’s not there.
Friday, December 12 — Advent Day 13: Roses in Winter
Saturday, December 13 — Advent Day 14: Candle Crowns and Saffron Buns
Listen along:
Our Required Listening: Holiday 2025 playlist is here to keep you company in the season of waiting. Listen along to some of my favorite holiday tunes this year on Apple Music and Spotify!
P.S. If you’re planning to gift something from our shop, U.S. orders must be placed by December 11 to arrive by Christmas. Head to our online shop for gifts that belong under your tree (or tucked in your t-shirt drawer or sitting on your desk, reminding you you’re doing great). Because joy is not a rush order—but shipping deadlines kind of are.
Each endless night now, more and more,
I feel in every cancer'd bone
that angels stand outside the door
and weeping, yearn to take me home
to that place beyond the pain,
to the joy beyond the fight
where I could leap and run again
through waterfalls of living light.
Through tears they cannot comprehend
what is compelling me to stay.
Why won't I smile, and thus commend
my spirit to another day?
I know ahead lie grace and beauty,
but here I stand, and here lies duty.
***
I have had near-death experiences. In each, I was given a choice to stay, or to return.
I have never regretted the choices. Heaven will be wonderful, but it's not made for me.
Not yet.