The Fence, the Key, and the Gentle Turn (A Holiday Reflection)
For years, I’ve held an image.
It’s me with my family — my sons, their wives, my grandchildren — gathered in a beautiful place.
High on a hill. Sunlit. Peaceful. One of those places that doesn’t exist on a map but feels completely real.
And along the edge of it, there was always a fence.
Not a harsh one.
Not barbed or forbidding.
Just… there.
A boundary. A quiet kind of protection around something precious.
I never questioned it. I didn’t think of it as control or fear. It simply belonged to the image, the way certain things do when they’ve been there a long time.
Recently, while sorting through old things, I came across three small objects: a key, an Allen wrench, and a Square reader I used years ago to accept credit cards on my phone.
They sat on my table, and something about them felt symbolic, though I couldn’t immediately say why.
The key was the first to speak.
What if the fence was never meant to stay?
What if it existed during a time when holding tightly felt necessary — and now, love is asking for something softer?
Maybe the key isn’t for locking anything at all.
Maybe it’s for releasing the idea that love needs guarding.
Then there was the Allen wrench.
It made me think of gentle turns — small adjustments, not force.
The kind of movement that loosens what has been held too rigidly, or opens something that closed without us realizing it had.
Not a dramatic opening of the heart, just a careful, patient easing.
And then there was the Square reader.
I don’t use it anymore. I stopped taking credit cards in my business a while ago.
But it reminded me of exchange, of value. Of being willing to receive — and to stay in circulation, even when the way we do that changes.
I don’t fully understand that part yet. And I don’t think I have to.
As the year winds down and the holidays arrive, plans have shifted in ways I didn’t choose and couldn’t control.
Gatherings postponed. Timelines undone. Expectations quietly rearranged.
It’s tender, this time of year.
Old hopes surface. Old instincts to hold everything just right return.
But maybe this season isn’t asking for perfect arrangements.
Maybe it’s asking for trust.
When I return to the image now, the hill is still there.
The light hasn’t changed.
The love is intact.
But the fence feels unnecessary.
The heart feels adjustable.
And the flow — whatever form it takes — feels possible again.
Everyone is free to come and go.
Including me.
At the turn of the year, I choose openness over guarding, and trust over holding tight. I wish that for you as well. XO
A holiday reflection
