Weaving Wreaths

Been spending stolen moments weaving more wreaths than words.

Lately, it’s easier to form these wreaths with bleeding fingers and throbbing knuckles than to form thoughts from a weary heart into words worthy of sharing.

My heart longs to weave words, but there are other things to do. So I trade words for wreaths and discover joy abounds in wreath making.

I find reward in the silent cadence of cutting and gathering, twisting and knotting the fresh greens that create a wreath. I imagine they are crowns fit for a king.

It’s a meager offering, but they are a gift, a glimmer of hope in a tiny savior for those who dwell in this house.

Truth and beauty can light the way.

Weaving the wreaths that will dress our house is art and prayer.

It writes peace upon my soul, breath in my lungs, joy in my heart. 

The rhythm and repetition of collecting greens, winding the wire, and securing the ribbon imitate the motion of gliding rosary beads through my fingers and invocation over my breath.

Words and prayers course through my mind as I add each branch, pinecone, and ribbon to the bough.

The act of creating is prayer too.

Forming wreaths is a litany of love for those who arrive in my heart and at my door as they feast their eyes.

Author or artisan, I pray whatever I create reminds others that a baby—the unlikeliest of kings—was born in a manger. The coming of this Savior is anticipated with each flickering candle until he arrives on Christmas Day.

May our decorating for this season be a prayer or an offering. In using the gifts we’ve been given, we give glory to Him.

I heard a song, Gratitude, on Friday while watching the Chosen Christmas Special. A few lyrics got stuck on repeat. While making the boughs the song came up again; the lyrics are the essence of my story:

“All my words fall short. I got nothing new. How could I express All my gratitude? So I throw up my hands, And praise you again and again. ‘Cause all that I have is a Hallelujah hallelujah. And I know it’s not much But I’ve got nothing else fit for a King, Except for a heart singing Hallelujah, hallelujah.” (Brandon Lake)

Sometimes, stitching words with golden threads can reveal a heart full of gratitude. Or we discover it when arranging wreaths into crowns of evergreen treasures that are hung to remind others a king will soon be born. 

I want to write about our weary but hopeful story—our journey to Bethlehem. Only the Savior knows how it goes.

My hands may ache, joy and gratitude are the balm for the wounds of sacrifice.

After stringing these words together, I open my Caregivers’ Devotional to discover today’s theme: “Express yourself in song.” 

The wreaths are my song, and the lyrics are joy and gratitude.

Fitting how the Responsial Psalm in mass today was Psalm 126, I have shared this song several times before—another song of joy for our journey.

“The Lord has done great things to for us; we are filled with joy.”

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