This is the Third Sunday of Advent. People and sources differ as to whether this particular candle should be “Joy,” “Love,” or “Peace,” but the Catholic Church has historically called this day “Gaudete” Sunday—which means “Rejoicing.”
Are we rejoicing that Advent is nearly over, and Christmas is coming? Or panicking because we’ve just thought of three people for whom we haven’t yet found presents, and omg, we haven’t touched the Christmas cards!? Oh, wait… yes, yes we did mail the cards!
Could be any (or all) of these things; a word like “Rejoicing” covers a lot, but in the end comes down to simple happiness—and I think that this is always because of Love. Love of God, the Love of Christ, and Love of each other. Love that reaches out and gently touches us, Love that inflames and comforts the soul. Gaudete!
-Diana
[EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright © 2024 Diana Gabaldon]
He’d slept like a log last night, though, worn out from his journey, plied with good, hot food and as much alcohol as he could drink. His memory of going to bed was confused, but he was lying now on the floor of an empty room—he felt the smooth boards under his hands, something warm over him. Light filtered through a burlap-covered window…
And quite suddenly, the thought was just there in his mind, without warning.
I’m in my father’s house.
“Jesus,” he said aloud, and sat up, blinking. All of the day before came flooding back, a jumble of effort, sweat and worry, climbing through forest and cliffs, and finally seeing a large, handsome house emerge, its glass—glass. In this wilderness?—windows twinkling in the sun, incongruous amid the trees.
He’d pushed himself and the horse past fear and fatigue, and then—there he was, just sitting on the porch. James Fraser.
There had been other people on the porch and in the yard, but he hadn’t noticed any of them. Just him. Fraser. He’d spent miles and days deciding what to say, how to describe the situation, frame his request—and in the end, had simply ridden right up to the porch, breathless, and said, “Sir, I need your help.”
He drew a deep breath and rubbed both hands through his disordered hair, reliving that moment. Fraser had risen at once, came down the steps, took him by the arm. And said, “You have it.”
“You have it,” he repeated softly, to himself.
Click to visit my Book Ten webpage for information on this book, and to read more excerpts from it.
This passage was also included in a longer excerpt titled “Need Your Help,” posted on Friday, February 10, 2023.
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