My life is a rainbow, the ending of a thunderstorm, illuminated as a prism. It is pain and joy, intermingled. It is the Advent of Christ. It is profound agony shaken it its core by the deep resonance of grace. Constantly. It is a hollowed-out soul flooded with the raging waters of redemption. It is longing and gratitude walking hand-in-hand. It is, indeed, a lifeless stump, sprouting a tender shoot. My life is always December, bone-chilling cold, dead, and filled with ice-boiling anticipation. Advent is my life.