This is another Love and Soul Moments That Matter reflection for December. No matter what religion, faith, or belief system you hold—or even if you hold none at…
This is another Love and Soul Moments That Matter reflection for December.
No matter what religion, faith, or belief system you hold—or even if you hold none at all—there is an energy that flows through all of us, grounded in the true science of Mother Nature. December reminds us of that rhythm. Leaves are gone. Places are colder. Gardens are resting. Life is meant to slow down.
Maybe that slowing is nature’s way of reminding us that connection—to family, to spirit, to soul—is not insignificant. For me, December serves as an annual invitation to reconnect, to celebrate, to love, and to enjoy family with an open, accepting spirit and the joyful gratitude that accompanies this season. When you do, the positivity carries forward in ripples that are impossible to measure.
I’ll share more about family in another LuvNSol reflection this month—I know I will—but in the spirit of gratitude and joy, I found myself on a familiar joy-seeking mission.
I had just spent the afternoon visiting the 4th Avenue Winter Street Fair and was driving home along Lambert Lane, about a mile and a half from my house. It’s a road I travel constantly—between home and Walgreens, McDonald’s, the golf course, Mountain View High School. A road so familiar it almost fades into the background.
But this time, something stopped me.
In front of one of the five churches along that stretch, I noticed a beautiful new wood-burned nativity structure. It caught my eye immediately. I made a U-turn and pulled in.
It was around 4:00 p.m. A few cars were parked, and it was clear they were preparing for something later that evening. A giant snow maze inflatable was going up. Decorations were spread across the grounds. Everything looked alive—activated.
So I did what I always do when something brings me joy.
I parked my convertible, Buddy, and took my traditional selfie—my little Love and Soul Moments That Matter ritual of capturing joy in real time. Then I wandered the grounds. I’ve never really visited that church before, but something about the space invited me to slow down and explore.
I stopped for another selfie in front of a Santa sleigh. Then I turned the corner and found a whole row of snowmen—families of them, all different sizes. At least a dozen. I started filming, slowly panning from left to right, smiling, feeling fully present and joyful.
And right at that moment, a woman walked through my video.
She was a shorter Asian woman, wearing an oversized visor and a red sweater—something my mom would have absolutely worn. She waved apologetically, saying, “Sorry, sorry,” and smiled as she passed.
It felt like a kiss from an angel.
I laughed, waved back, and just stood there for a moment, letting it all sink in.
As I continued walking, I came across a towering JOY sign—at least 20 feet tall. I loved it instantly. I’m always seeking joy, and I had just posted a story of my daughter standing in front of a JOY sign herself. It felt like another little alignment.
Then, as if the universe wasn’t done yet, I turned another corner and spotted Lucy—from the Charlie Brown Christmas blow-up set.
I’m always looking for Lucys.
Of course I took that in too.
I wished I could come back later that night when everything would be fully lit and alive, but we already had plans. As I headed back to my car, a man called out from behind me.
“You really should come back after six—when everything’s running.”
I turned around, introduced myself, and thanked him for the invitation. I told him how beautiful everything looked and asked if this was something they’d done before.
“No,” he said. “This is the first time. We just wanted to do something joyful for the community.”
As a former producer of movements, I know how much work volunteers put into moments like these. I thanked him for leading the way, for creating something that clearly came from the heart. Before leaving, I asked his name.
“John,” he said.
Of course it was.
John is the name of both my dad and my twin brother. In that moment, standing at a church I don’t belong to—and may never belong to—I felt the presence of family in the most unexpected way.
It wasn’t about religion. It wasn’t about membership.
It was about slowing down.
It was about noticing.
It was about gratitude for something that quietly draws you in.
That nativity drew me in. It was beautiful.
I drove by again the next day. The inflatables and festival setup were gone, but the nativity remained. The snowmen were still there. I even noticed jingle bells draped along the roof—details I hadn’t seen before.
And that’s my December reminder:
Always seek joy.
And when you see it—grab it.
Because sometimes joy is waiting for you right around the corner… on a road you thought you already knew.