12/10/2023
Today is the Second Sunday of Advent. Depending on your source, the second candle is either called Peace, or Love (the first candle is for Hope). We went to the Vigil Mass (Saturday evening) this evening, and the Psalm response was, “A voice in the wilderness cries, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord!” (Depending on the translation used, “way” can also be translated as “path” or “road”, etc.)
We don’t exist in a pious vacuum; we all live among other people, and when you have a lot of people together, you get occasional crowding and jostling and stepping-on of toes. I think we help to make things straight by easing the lives of the people we find on our way. We give clothes, food, and whatever help we can—but if we’re not in a position to offer material help, we can always give another person a smile, a hand, or a moment of our company—connection is always the first step toward Peace.
[Excerpt from Book Ten (Untitled), Copyright 2023 Diana Gabaldon]
Only a few people had noticed William’s arrival. The post-wedding revelry was well underway, and most of the guests were gathered in clumps near the food tables, talk and laughter rising and falling in volume as the wind shifted in the trees.
One of those who _had_ noticed was F***y, standing at my elbow.
“_A Dhia_,” she said faintly. Oh, God.
I couldn’t have put it better myself.
Jamie rose slowly from his chair—not using his stick, I saw—and drew himself up, eyes fixed on William. William himself was still on his horse, the two of them mud-spattered, windblown and breathing hard. I saw his throat move as he swallowed, evidently preparing to repeat what he’d said a moment before.
_Sir—I need your help_.
But Jamie was moving, going down the steps. I could hear his left knee crack with each step, but he didn’t flinch or limp. He reached William and put a hand on his arm.
“You have it,” he said simply. “Come in.”
