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From the DEC/JAN Zephyr: Sowing Clover: Snowfall and the Religion of Grief…by Tonya Stiles

An excerpt:

He was always teaching me about ritual, and about solitude. Each year, winter brought both to our isolated home in the forest. Mom and Dad brought in wood from the pile outside, to keep ready by the stove. We located the lamp oil and candles, and gathered them where they would be easily found in case of a power outage. With the coming of Advent, our weekly Mass took on an expectant solemnity, which impressed me even as a small child. The Advent readings hovered on the subject of preparation and readiness for the coming of God. We were in darkness, the Priest intoned from the altar, but soon there would be light.

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