This Advent reflection weaves together story, friendship, and lived faith—listening for the breath of God bringing peace and life into ordinary and sacred moments.

There’s a picture in one of my family’s old children’s books of a cloud with a face. Its cheeks are all puffed out, blowing a big gust of wind over the world.

Hold on to that thought…

I’ve been reflecting on a conversation I had with my friend Marc last week. I hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks, which was—quite literally—like going through withdrawal. I didn’t want to bother them. They have so many visitors, family members, and caretakers coming and going. Who am I? Just someone God unexpectedly called into their lives through a Bible study with Nancy five years ago. The rest is history.

You may know, writing quite unexpectedly drew me closer to Marc and his wife, Nancy. There was nothing planned about it—not from my perspective anyway. I realize now, though, that what’s not according to my plan is according to God’s grace.

Truly, they have important friends from all over the world—people who have been part of their lives for decades. I’m the girl from Bible study who’s never been to the Holy Land or Palestine, Tunisia, or Pakistan, or…you name it—like them. And sometimes I wonder: how is it that someone like me could write a book about them?

You know the answer.

God breathes life into us. That’s how.

But how?

He does it in many ways. Through friendship, for one.

It’s all about grace.

Now, like I was saying, when I was little, we had this book with a picture of a cloud—big cheeks puffed out—blowing a great white gust of fresh air over the earth. Again, hold onto that thought.

So, when I hadn’t seen Marc in two weeks and then dreamt I’d been with him, I knew it was time to pay a call. During church last week, I sat beside Nancy, walked her to her car—like I love to do—and asked if she needed anything (even though I knew she’d say no.)

Then I asked, “Do you want me to come over?”

That, too, wasn’t exactly the right question. It was lunchtime, Todd would be waiting, she knew that. It was Packer day, and he’d made Sloppy Joes and mac ’n cheese. So I quickly asked instead, “Is it okay if I just swing by?”

Marc’s been getting some good sleep lately and neither of us knew if he’d be awake. I remember my dad calling me at work one day at 1:00 p.m. “I just woke up!” He said.

“That’s good, Dad,” I told him. “It means you’re getting good rest. You’re at peace!”

So when I stopped by, Marc was awake, and that’s exactly what I said: “I hear you’re getting some good rest. You’re at peace!” And then I told him about the new story I’d written.

“It’s about Ezekiel,” I said. “When I mentioned to Nancy that I was studying Ezekiel, she gave me a commentary by John Taylor. Well, that’s way over my head.”

Marc perked right up and said, “You’ll love it.” So I’ll keep at it.

Then I read him my story about God breathing life into dry bones—like He breathes life into us.

And suddenly I realized: That’s what these two had done for me. They breathed life back into me what the world had stolen. That story was like a love letter to them. Why else would I be writing about Ezekiel for Pete’s sake? (Who is Pete?)

Marc’s eyes were as bright as I’ve ever seen them—golden brown—and I told him so.

As I was about to leave, he startled me when he suddenly puffed up his cheeks and blew.

I smiled, kissed the side of his head and told him it was from my brother Ed, like I always do.

It wasn’t until the next morning I realized. Like the cloud… like the gust of wind… like a fragrant offering pleasing to God—Marc listened to my story, he heard me, and once again, he blessed me.

And I wondered, with all those sermons he’s given all around the world, all those Bible studies Nancy’s taught, all that hospitality they’ve offered…how many people have these two breathed life into…?

What can I say about all of this except this: I stand in awe of the One who gave His all, who makes His dwelling within us. Jesus. The One who breathes hope and peace, joy and life into us.

And as I watch Marc’s days in hospice, he shows me this: we were never created to be self-sufficient. Day by day, we were designed to need our daily Bread—and our daily Breath. So that, along with Paul, we, too, can say: “I can do all things through Him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:13

Advent peace isn’t about the absence of illness or disease or conflict…but as inner renovation.

Peace that doesn’t wait for circumstances to behave.

Peace that begins in the chest.

With breath.