In the quiet of Sunday evening,

a candle flame flickers gently beside me.

My needles slide back and forth, steady and sure,

and at last—I begin to soften.

The busyness of the day has been set aside.

The noise, the movement, the doing… all released.

I return again to a place of calm,

a place that feels like home within me.

This is my rhythm for the week.

As I move toward Good Friday

and onward to Easter Sunday,

my evening intentions become clearer, quieter, deeper.

I make space.

I make time.

I listen.

There is a gentle voice that calls me—

not loudly, not urgently—

but with a steady invitation to come closer,

to keep going,

to pay attention.

And in this stillness, I ask myself:

Have I done good for another today?

Did I offer kindness where it was needed?

Did I pause long enough to feel gratitude?

Did I laugh… even just a little?

These are not questions of judgment,

but of returning.

Returning to the life I want to live.

Returning to grace.

And so, with candlelight and quiet hands,

I begin again.