November

November.

There’s something about this month that aches.

It doesn’t shout, but it sighs, low and long.

The air turns sharp, the light grows scarce, and the calendar begins to whisper that the year is closing its eyes.

And maybe… maybe you look around and think, “This is not where I thought I’d be.”

You thought you’d be further. Healed. Happier.

You thought the breakthrough would’ve come by now. You thought the ashes would’ve been exchanged for beauty, not added to the growing pile. But instead, here you are.

Still carrying what you thought you’d be free of.

Still watching the shadows fall earlier.

Still trying to make peace with a path you didn’t choose.

This is the season where the missing things echo louder.

Where the empty chair, the closed door, the silent phone, the undone dream…

all seem to take their place at the table.

Maybe what was beautiful now feels like ruin.

Maybe you were clinging to the promise of a bloom, and all that’s come is the burial.

Maybe you’re grieving something you can’t even name.

The dream that died quiet.

The version of you that never got to be.

The prayer you’ve stopped saying out loud.

I won’t pretend this month is easy.

It holds the weight of what wasn’t.

It sets the stage for glitter and gladness when your soul feels threadbare.

The world strings up lights while you’re still sitting in the dark.

But oh friend,

may God be with you there.

In the hollowed-out places.

In the silence between sobs.

In the ache you don’t know how to articulate.

May He walk with you when the sun sets earlier and your heart feels heavier.

When the days blur and the nights won’t end.

When nothing feels steady, and everything feels sacred in its breaking.

May He be your portion when your plans fall apart.

May He be your presence when people disappear.

May He hold you when holding it together is too much to ask.

And when I can’t be there…

when I can’t fix it or sit beside you or say the right thing, may He still be there.

Steady. Present. Close.

Whispering through the winds of November…

“I see you. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even here.

Even now.

Even when the year grows cold.

He is still Emmanuel….God with us.