Over the days leading into Thanksgiving, I watched the changing of colors from the bright autumnal golds and reds to the muted monochromatic of beige and browns. Beauty is less obvious in the fading, but it’s there in subtlety.

While the bold oranges of Halloween get our attention, the muted colors of waning flowers and drying seed pods yield to a softer side. Considering the meaning of subtle, I consulted the dictionary and the definition that resonated most with what I was seeing in the changing landscape was “pleasing to the senses in a mild and nuance way”

My friend, Paula lives in the mountains of North Carolina and takes her two dogs for walks in the early mornings. She snaps lots of pictures and then adds poetry to her posts with those photos on her FB and Instagram pages. Some of the pics are wide views of the rolling hills of the Appalachians; those transport me to the grandeur of that place. But the ones that have caught my eye recently, have been those that show the closeup beauty of contrasts in textures and form, the unexpected that is only caught by the observant eye. To see those things, you must be present in the moment.

Now that we’re past Thanksgiving, I’ll slowly give in to letting go of this season. It’s time to put away the woven straw pumpkins, harvest pillows, and the few pops of orange in my house. I need transition time before I put up my Christmas tree and move into the rich reds and greens of the Yuletide season.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that the subtleties of the days leading up to Christmas can be appreciated in the observance of Advent. Better to use Wikipedia to explain the meaning: Advent is a season observed in most Christian denominations as a time of waiting and preparation for both the celebration of Jesus’s birth at Christmas and the return of Christat the Second Coming. In worship services, a candle is lit every week, starting the Sunday after Thanksgiving, up until Christmas. This week the candle will represent Hope created by the prophesies of a Messiah.

In the mid-eighties, I participated in our church’s pre-Christmas weeknight gatherings to observe Advent. The church had minimal lighting–just enough to safely enter the sanctuary that was modern, one-level with a wall of windows that looked out to a few buildings, but mostly trees. We sang softly, just a cappella first-verses of gentle Christmas hymns, like “Silent Night” the ones that ground you in a feeling of peace instead of the frenzy of the season. The minister sat in the front beside a table with a dark blue candle burning, producing enough golden light to shine on the faces of the pensive parishioners. His message was brief but deeply meaningful, lingering with me as we quietly left.

Over my lifetime, I’ve been involved in many Christmas pageants with the homey child-acted dramas of sheep and shepherds, choir cantatas that were over-rehersed, Christmas Eve Moravian Love Feasts, and services of Lessons and Carols in the majesty of Duke Chapel. But none of those services have spoken to the quiet depth like those weeknight services with the single blue candle, that warm light in the midst of the short dark nights.

My references wouldn’t be complete in December 2025, without a reference to AI. From that source, Beautiful Subtleties are described as “delicate aspects of beauty that are not overtly displayed but are deeply felt upon closer attention.” My hope for myself and all you readers, is that we’ll lean into the Hope of the season, wherever you find your source of Hope, by discovering those aspects of beauty that are “deeply felt upon closer attention.” In our personal lives, in our communities, in our world, we need Hope.

Best to you in the week ahead.

Connie