From the Rector…
This past Advent, we spent some time talking about hygge and the invitation to simply be cozy. As I reflected on this spiritual practice, I realized that hygge is about more than physical comfort. Hygge invites us to make space for a deeper experience of life.
Every morning, I read scripture and pray, often including yoga and meditation as part of my routine. But before I begin any of these practices, I am intentional about making space for them. I sit in a favorite spot—if the weather is temperate, that might be the couch on the back porch, where I listen for the sounds of the earth as she stirs awake. The birds hop in and out of the sprinkler as they take their morning bath. Squirrels chatter in the treetops, chasing one another and prompting Cuthbert to run from one end of the yard to the other, carefully monitoring their progress.
As the weather cools, I bring a warm, fuzzy blanket with me and sit on the porch for as long as possible. When it becomes too cold to be outside, I snuggle into a big, oversized chair with Archie, one of the basset hounds, curled up in my lap. Often, I wrap a blanket around both of us, and together we hold that quiet space—resting in the stillness and knowledge of God. Making that space allows for a deeper, more intentional prayer life, one in which the distractions of the world no longer pull me away from the presence of God.
I think that may be what hygge means for me: an intentionality that draws me more deeply into God through moments of quiet and care. The comfort and coziness of that space help me avoid distraction and allow me to focus on creation and presence.
Taking time each morning to pray and read the Bible are meaningful spiritual disciplines. But when I combine them with hygge, they become more than a practice—they become sustenance. They nourish my spirit and draw me into renewal and hope each morning. In this way, I begin the day grounded in love and possibility, even when I know the tasks ahead may be daunting.
As we enter into Epiphany, I am reminded that hygge is more than coziness—it is life-giving. It doesn’t take much to be cozy. Perhaps that, in part, is the gift of the manger. Even as the magi arrive bearing frankincense, gold, and myrrh, they are received without ceremony or expectation. The holy family shares an intimate and sacred moment—even with strangers—in the quiet and humble warmth of a stable on a dark night, where fear is held at bay. That feels like the ultimate expression of hygge.
Light and Life,
Candice+