The ice of winter, the fire of Christmas

[While I'm writing this in June, I'm saving it for a December issue of the Sentinel. Sometimes we need to allow events to develop further before we publish what our hearts may already know. And, of course, there are times when it's absolutely clear that we can't wait until December to be moved by a deeper Christmas spirit.]

Giant globes of rhododendron blossoms catch my attention around the corner of the house. Sunlight forces its way through half-opened curtains. It's one of those brilliant, sunflooded summer mornings that seem like sheer imagination in the middle of ice-encrusted New England winters.

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Editorial
Gifts from the heart
December 25, 1989
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