There’s a stillness to December you can’t find any other time of year. The days narrow themselves into soft edges. The nights stretch long and quiet. Old almanac writers called these “the dreaming weeks” — a time when the sun stands still, and the world gathers its breath. Maybe that’s why candlelight feels different now. Not brighter, but closer. Not louder, but steadier — a kind of welcome that doesn’t require words. Belonging has never been about the size of the gatherin