The contrast was so sharp we nearly winced. The other day, we were talking about somber subjects, including the upcoming anniversary of the death of Soren’s dad and a dear friend’s recent cancer diagnosis. Our hearts were heavy. Outside the window, brilliant crimson and gold leaves of maples and oaks fell by the minute.

Suddenly, our 14-year-old daughter bounded into the room, beaming with anticipation about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday and all the fun she has planned with siblings returning from college, visiting friends, and hosting family. Our two younger boys were also giddy, wrestling in leaf piles when they were supposed to be mowing and horsing around some more as they loudly watched football and anticipated upcoming cousin visits.
 
What a dizzying season of contrasts. Daylight savings is over, darkness is growing, and many of us experience a surge of sadness even as the holiday sparkle begins to grow. Is there a good way to honor our grief at the same time as entering into the holiday season, to both be present to the reality of the cross and happily anticipate the coming celebrations?  
 
The “both-and” answer is hiding in plain sight, awaiting us in the Church’s daily liturgical readings and calendar. In November, the Church invites us to meditate on the four last things: death, judgment, heaven, and hell. And each day’s readings are brimming with insights, consolations, and challenges that speak directly to our struggles. Each day’s readings teach us how to live authentically within the apparent contradictions of a good life that is nonetheless beset by powerful limitations.

And so we invite you to join us in the little challenge we’ve set for ourselves as we strive to live this both-and in the weeks ahead:  

• Meditate on the daily readings with special attention to last things and voice the struggles of your heart in prayer.
• Quiet your heart before the Lord and invite Him to heal you and give you his peace.
• Share the fruit of your prayer with your spouse, and allow this “overflow” to fuel you as you lead your family to both thoughtfully and joyfully engage in such a rich season of life.

If the atmosphere of our home—our Trinity House, in which we live in the communion of the Father and the Son in the Holy Spirit—is increasingly permeated with daily meditation, then the “both-and” will come naturally, in God’s time (not ours). Here are some fruits we hope to see from our challenge:

• Our interior peace will make us docile to the Holy Spirit’s promptings about how to acknowledge our grief and also reach out to the suffering.
• Our longing for the coming of Christ will allow us to serenely see through the glitter and noise all around us, and move toward the real joy of the season.
• Our marriages and families will become more focused on the true light of Christ, instead of being stuck in the darkness of grief or distracted by worldly shimmer and shine.

Yes, we will stumble in the weeks ahead. Our fatigue or wounds will get the upper hand, and our family will see a less attractive side of us. But in these paradoxical dark-light days, our Lord and Savior invites us to quickly get up and “lift our eyes unto the hills whence cometh our help” (Ps. 121:1). He is with us both in our struggles and in our growing excitement about the dawn from on high that will soon break upon us.