Beholding December: A Season of Stillness, Memory, and Gentle Light

Amy Oledzki on December 2, 2025

As December arrives, I am reminded that the final month of the year often holds a unique mixture of tenderness and truth. The world around us grows quieter—winter skies fade earlier into darkness, cold air encourages us inward, and nature itself pauses, resting in a kind of holy stillness.

Beholding—a word that invites us not just to see, but to witness with intention. To behold is to pause long enough for awareness to surface. It asks us to approach ourselves, our memories, and the present moment with an open, steady gaze. And perhaps more importantly, it asks us to allow what is to be enough.

For many who are grieving, this quiet can feel comforting or confrontational. Sometimes both. The end of the year can carry with it the weight of memory for those carrying loss. December can stir up an ache of what is missing. There is a particular kind of poignancy to traditions we can no longer share, to rituals that now feel altered, to the placeholders at the table and the conversations left unfinished. Grief has a way of sharpening the contrast between what once was and what now is.

Turning towards Nature as the year draws to a close allows us to see that the natural world mirrors the emotional landscape of grief, and helps us positively focus. The earth is bare and resting, stripped of excess. Trees stand in their truth without foliage to hide behind. Winter does not rush. It waits, holds, breathes.

Yet, within that contrast, there is also the possibility of beholding—of lifting our eyes gently toward the moments of meaning still available to us.

Not to fix anything.
Not to force gratitude.
But simply to notice.

I like to focus on the strength and resilience of the evergreens—their majestic presence reminding us that even in the darkest, coldest months, life endures with quiet courage. The holly is another small miracle that arrives in the winter, with its glossy deep green leaves, bright red berries, and a presence that feels both protective and symbolic. Traditionally, holly has represented resilience and the promise of hope during the darkest time of the year. Its berries stand out against a barren landscape, reminding us that color and life exist even when the world feels cold and stripped down.

For caregivers and grievers alike, holly and evergreens can offer a tender lesson that even in deep dormancy, there can be signs of life worth beholding.

Its sharp, protective leaves also echo something true about grief. Loss teaches us boundaries. It teaches us to shield what is tender. And it teaches us that even the smallest burst of color—a memory, a breath of appreciation, a moment of warmth—can carry us through a difficult season.

Another thought to consider is the Essential Oil of the Month for December – Magnolia. Magnolia, with its soft, floral embrace, carries an energy of compassion and tranquility. Its aroma encourages us to soften the edges of our internal world, especially when grief feels jagged. Magnolia teaches the art of gentleness, both toward ourselves and the emotions that rise in December’s quiet reflection.

Paired with our focus of Beholding, magnolia offers an invitation: allow yourself to stand still long enough to sense the comfort that is available. Not the comfort that erases grief—but the comfort that accompanies it. In moments of overwhelm, inhaling magnolia can feel like placing a warm hand on the heart, reminding us that we are allowed to slow down and receive support.

Some last thoughts for this month’s focus: Beholding as a Practice with Loss does not require perfection. It simply requires presence. In your moments of heaviness this month, you may consider practicing the art of beholding in small, manageable ways:

  • Behold a memory—not to change it, but to honor it.
  • Behold the natural world—winter’s quiet landscapes often reflect our inner terrain.
  • Behold your breath—especially when emotion constricts the chest.
  • Behold small glimmers of warmth—a light in a window, a cup of tea, a bird perched on a bare branch.
  • Behold your own resilience—even if you don’t feel resilient in the moment.

Grief slows us down, sometimes against our will. Nature, in December, does the same. Both invite us into a slower, more reflective rhythm. Think of this thought as an invitation to let your gaze soften. Let your awareness rest on what is here—not what could have been or what should have been, but what is unfolding quietly in front of you.

And as holly brightens the winter landscape and magnolia calms the weary heart, may you find a gentle space to rest within yourself—trusting that this season, like all seasons, carries its own kind of wisdom.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder of Hope Grows

Focus of the Month: Beholding
Essential Oil: Magnolia
Flower: Holly

Re-membering — Finding Our Way Back to What Still Belongs

Amy Oledzki on November 3, 2025

November ushers in a profound shift. The days grow shorter, darkness lingers longer, and the cold begins its slow settling in. For many who are grieving, this seasonal descent mirrors the inner landscape of loss. We become aware of what has been taken, what feels missing, and what life has made painfully out of place. Loss, in many ways, dis-members us—pulling apart what once felt whole, steady, or deeply anchored in love.

But November, with its gentle cultural invitation to gather, to reflect, to break bread, and to give thanks, offers another path forward. The path of Re-membering. Not remembering, as in merely recalling memories, but Re-membering, as the opposite of dismembering: bringing back together the parts of our story, our identity, and our love – ours still to keep.

When the Heart Can’t Look Back (Yet)

In the early throes of grief, memory can feel unbearable. I worked with a male client who lost the love of his life. The photographs of their travels, the souvenirs of family adventures, and the once-treasured albums sat untouched. He asked me through tears, “Will I ever be able to look at these again?” In that season, he could not. The memories brought searing pain, not comfort. He judged himself for it, wondering why love had become so intolerable to look at.

The truth is this: in early grief, protecting ourselves is not avoidance—it’s survival. With time, compassion, and gentleness, shifts. Months later, he told me he sat down with those same albums, this time with a candle lit beside him. He smiled. He cried. He paused. He continued. But he could look. The memories, he said, “came back like warm waves instead of cold knives.” This is Re-membering—when the story becomes integrated again, and love, not shock, sets the tone.

The Role of Nature and the language of plants is something we incorporate in our model of care. Periwinkle is the flower for the month and has long symbolized fidelity, everlasting love, and spiritual connection. Its evergreen nature reminds us that some bonds—especially those forged in deep love—do not die. Even in the coldest months, its presence whispers, “what is rooted in the heart remains.”

Bringing periwinkle imagery, dried flowers, or watercolor art into your space can act as a gentle anchor during November. Nature not only reflects where we are—it helps guide us to what’s next.

Another grounding companion is the doTERRA Balance® Essential Oil. For those grieving, grounding is essential. The doTERRA Balance® blend, with its steady, wood-forward aroma, offers emotional centering when life feels unmoored. A drop to the wrists, over the heart, or on the bottoms of the feet can support the nervous system and create space for calmer breathing, emotional stability, and greater connection to the present moment. When we are grounded, we are more capable of Re-membering gently, without drowning in the past or bracing against it.

The November heart can bring gratitude and giving. It brings thanks-giving—not just as a holiday, but as a posture. Gratitude does not erase grief, but it can coexist with it. Neuroscience shows that giving thanks and engaging in altruism can increase serotonin and dopamine levels, elevating mood and nurturing a sense of meaning and connection. When we give of ourselves—especially while grieving—we momentarily step out of our pain and into purpose.

Some of the most healing practices in November can include:

  • Writing one simple gratitude each day.
  • Helping someone anonymously.
  • Sending a card to a caregiver, widow, or grieving friend.
  • Volunteering, even in a small capacity.
  • Sharing a meal or donating one.

Altruism helps stitch the heart back together. It reminds us: We still matter. We can still contribute. We are still connected.

As we transition into the giving season and the colder start of the change of season, may you Re-member what is still yours, ground yourself with breath, earth, and calming aromatherapy, honor memories at a pace that is gentle, not forced, receive the symbols of nature as teachers and companions, and give and give thanks, not to bypass grief, but to let light in.

As winter approaches, may you find that what once felt broken can become rearranged—not as it was before, but as something whole in a new way. Love remains. You are still here. Your story continues, and it still deserves warmth, connection, and peace.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Focus of the Month: Re-membering
Essential Oil: Balance
Flower: Periwinkle

Beyond Yourself: Finding Ground in Grief During Autumn

Amy Oledzki on October 6, 2025

Autumn carries with it a unique duality—a beauty that invites reflection and a reminder of inevitable change. Leaves shift from vibrant greens to fiery reds and golds, daylight wanes, and the air grows crisp. For caregivers, this season can mirror the internal landscape of grief: moments of vivid memory, tinged with loss, and a sense of transition that can feel both beautiful and unsettling.

Caregivers experience loss throughout their journey—not only the eventual passing of a loved one but also the slow erosion of familiar routines, physical independence, and shared dreams. Often, the weight of this emotional labor is carried quietly, and reaching out for support can feel like an indulgence rather than a necessity. Yet, it is precisely during these moments, when life feels beyond your control, that stepping outside yourself to seek support creates a profound opportunity: the chance to live in a moment beyond yourself.

The Power of Emotional Support

Grief can be isolating, but it does not need to be endured alone. Emotional support—whether through a trusted friend, a counselor, or a support group—offers caregivers a space to share, reflect, and be witnessed without judgment. It allows for the release of pent-up feelings, the validation of experiences, and the gentle reminder that grief is not a linear process. By reaching out, caregivers’ step beyond the self-imposed isolation and embrace a moment of shared humanity. In this act, even the heaviest moments of loss can become slightly more bearable.

Nature as a Grounding Force

Autumn’s natural rhythms mirror the journey of loss, offering a quiet guide toward a feeling of being grounded. I know I have mentioned this many times in my blogs, and maybe I am starting to sound like a broken record, but connecting to nature works. While I share my experience from the other day, please know that this is not meant to be a comparison to the grief we all feel as described above; it merely is an example of how powerful connecting to nature can be.

I was at Hope Grows over the weekend helping my spouse with the leaves and cutting the grass when the utility vehicle we were using would not start. We were back in the woods when we realized the battery was the problem. We were far enough away from an electric source for jumping the battery that caused annoyance and frustration. We were both tired and almost done with the work, and we started to experience a sense of defeat: a loss of time, as we both saw it, time that we thought we couldn’t spare. Instead of expressing the emotions, I suggested we lean back in our seats and look up into the trees, and take some deep breaths. WOW! Within a few minutes we both could feel the benefit from connecting to nature. It truly is a grounding force.

Moments of loss and the emotion that comes with it is overwhelming. It doesn’t have to be if we choose another path, such as walking among the shifting trees, noticing the crispness of the air, or observing the slow descent of falling leaves. This process encourages mindfulness—a way to root oneself in the present. Nature gently reminds us of life’s cycles, the inevitability of endings, and the quiet persistence of renewal. These encounters do not erase grief but provide a tangible anchor, a steadying presence amidst emotional turbulence.

Living Beyond Yourself

When caregivers engage with emotional support and connect with nature, they participate in a practice of living beyond themselves. It is an acknowledgment that grief, while intensely personal, is also shared across the human experience. These practices create moments where the weight of caregiving and loss can be set down, even temporarily, allowing space for reflection, compassion, and hope. Autumn, with its transitional beauty, becomes a companion in this process—a reminder that change, loss, and renewal exist side by side.

For caregivers, embracing support and the grounding presence of nature does not diminish the depth of their grief. Instead, it offers a path toward resilience, mindfulness, and the quiet revelation that even in the midst of loss, life—like the turning of the seasons—continues, offering moments of connection, insight, and healing. In the moment that both my spouse and I had with staring into the trees, it calmed our brain enough to spark a creative fix to getting the utility vehicle started. Thank you, God, for helping us take those deep breaths and to nature for giving us the opportunity to go beyond ourselves.

Hope Grows offers emotional and mental health support to caregivers and those grieving a loss by way of mental health counseling, support groups, both virtual and in-person, education, and phone check ins.

Written by Lisa Story, MSCP, LPC, CT
Founder & Clinical Director

Focus of the Month: Beyond Yourself
Essential Oil: Cedarwood
Flower: Fuchsia

Stretching Yourself in Grief

Amy Oledzki on August 4, 2025

In August, as summer begins to exhale its last full breath, the world around us slowly starts to quiet. The heat lingers, but the light subtly shifts. Gardens begin to dry. Cicadas sing their steady chorus. Nature gives us signs that change is near.

And in this seasonal in-between, there is an invitation: to stretch yourself.

Joyful Grief & Loss Classes: Grief & Flowers

Amy Oledzki on June 20, 2024

THIS CLASS HAS BEEN CANCELED AND MAY BE RESCHEDULED FOR A LATER DATE

With grief and loss comes uncertainty and doubt. Join us in learning that our identity and personality exist beyond grief. You’ll arrange a floral bouquet to take home and connect with the symbolism of flowers and nature to help find joyful moments in your journey of grief. By using flowers and its symbolism to find those joyful moments, “flowers” become a path to specific roles in healing.

Attendees must be willing to work with flowers in and from nature. Walking through the healing gardens, (if able, but not necessary) is also part of the class.

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The Joyful Grief & Loss Classes at Hope Grows are part of an educational and supportive program that promotes the concept that while grief can be painful, it can also present moments of joy. Learn about the emotional pain of grief by way of tactile activities to process and let go of difficult moments and feelings. While building a sense of community, the journey becomes finding moments of ease and glimpses of the beauty that can surface. Each class builds upon the other; however, it is not necessary to attend all.

  • October 19 – Grief & Senses: A Sensory Class with Hope Grows
  • Early December – Community Gathering

Joyful Grief & Loss Classes: Grief & Mud

Amy Oledzki on March 25, 2024

Join Hope Grows and Stray Cat Studios for a unique clay class that is both healing and enjoyable as we process our loss and understand the important concepts of memorializing. The tactile activity of creating and making a memorial
wind chime will serve as a practical and beautiful piece to honor our loved ones.

Suggested donation of $65
CLICK HERE TO REGISTER
**12 participants max**

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The Joyful Grief & Loss Classes at Hope Grows are part of an educational and supportive program that promotes the concept that while grief can be painful, it can also present moments of joy. Learn about the emotional pain of grief by way of tactile activities to process and let go of difficult moments and feelings. While building a sense of community, the journey becomes finding moments of ease and glimpses of the beauty that can surface. Each class builds upon the other; however, it is not necessary to attend all.

  • July 20 – Grief & Flowers: A Flowers in the Garden Class with Hope Grows
  • October 19 – Grief & Senses: A Sensory Class with Hope Grows
  • Early December – Community Gathering