In three decades of preaching and writing, I have had a growing appreciation for how often it is the smallest words that make the biggest difference. Dwarfed by their larger companions, they seem insignificant, but they are not.

A blank page, or screen in this digital age, is intimidating for a writer. In your head is a jumble of ideas, each one a potential vehicle for a creative journey, but like cars in rush hour traffic, they are backed up with none moving forward.

I have a favorite Christmas hymn that I am uncomfortable singing. It is one of the most beloved Christmas hymns, and I love it too, with reservation. I am a man conflicted! The hymn is “Away in a Manger,” a song mistakenly attributed to Martin Luther.

I have a friend who is obsessed with the proper use of grammar. One time when going through TSA security screening at the airport, he felt the need to correct the TSA agent’s grammar.

November 27th was the first Sunday of Advent; its theme was hope. When Winston Churchill learned that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor and the United States had entered World War II, he said, “Silly people, and there were many, not only in enemy countries, might discount the force of the United States…But I had studied the American Civil War, fought out to the last desperate inch. American blood flowed in my veins.

I knew it was inevitable, the culture has long been drifting in that direction, and it is just a slogan, but I still cringed when I heard it used in this way. “This is the reason for the season,” a commercial for who-knows-what cheerily declared.

My wife has an endearing habit that I am gradually making my own. She says, “thank you,” for everything I do. If I take out the trash, she says, “Thank you for taking out the trash.” When we go grocery shopping, she says, “Thank you for helping me do the shopping.”

I awoke with a start in full panic mode. It was morning and sunlight flooded our tiny motel room. Shaking my wife, I shouted, “Get up, we overslept! We’re going to miss the ferry!” We bounded out of bed, threw on clothes, and wrangled our suitcases out of the room.

“Do we have enough candy?” my wife’s text read. It was Halloween, she was leaving work, and her commute would take her past several grocery stores. I considered last year’s brisk trick-or-treat traffic and replied, “You should pick up another bag.”

My wife and I just bought a new car. Our old car was making strange sounds that threatened to leave us stranded.

Car purchasing is a rare experience for us because we keep our cars for a long time. This experience was quite pleasant, unlike our first car-buying experience.