This time of year, I drive slowly across the bridge on my way home. Across the lake, I can see our welcoming lights. As I turn into the neighborhood, I stop on the ridge. My husband's amazing light display greets me through the forest before I even make it to our street. The trees block some of the color making it somewhat magical & I am all the more anxious to arrive home. A crudely painted nativity scene is poised on our corner as a reminder of why we celebrate. With the newness of salvation on my heart, I pass through the light to our winter retreat.
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