One of my family’s Christmas traditions is an annual trip to the city of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, about a 40-minute drive from our home. As befits its name, Bethlehem identifies itself as the “Christmas City,” and at this time of year it pulls out all the stops to be a welcoming and fun destination. We’ve been going there on a Saturday or Sunday in December for the past twelve years or so. Our visit always includes stops at Grandpa Joe’s Candy Shop, the Foo Foo Shoppe (where there are loads of rubber duckies), the Moravian Book Store, and more. There’s always at least a little sneaky purchasing of presents and stocking stuffers. And the day always ends after the sun sets, with a visit to Payrow Plaza, where there is a giant Christmas tree, giant Advent candles, a view of the “Bethlehem star” on South Mountain, and a large nativity scene – where I tell the kids the Christmas story as written by St. Luke. It’s a tradition that’s become important to all of us.

This year, it was sadly different. My wife has bronchitis, and did not feel up to going today – all the walking, and the outdoor weather would have encouraged too many painful coughing fits. So the kids and I went without her. It was my intention to try and take photos throughout the trip, and text them to my wife, so she could feel a part of it the whole time. But before I could share that plan, I found out that my 14-year-old kid had already planned the same thing. They wanted their mother to be part of this as much as I did, and that warmed my heart. Both of us were taking photos and texting Mom all afternoon. That was a sign of God’s light, how we were able to help sickie Mom be part of this tradition this year.

The second sign I saw of God’s light was a wonderful quirk of astronomy. In this season when we remember the story of following a star to Bethlehem, there was a beautiful crescent moon shining brightly, which situated itself right between the four enormous Advent candles which loomed over the plaza, two of which were shining in the twilight. It felt like a wink from God, saying, “Hello. I’m still here, over Bethlehem, even now.”

That’s where I saw the light of God today, the second Saturday of Advent.