With the Winter Solstice just behind us—the longest night, the quietest turning point of the year—I’ve been thinking about a woman I worked with a few years ago.

We had wrapped up working together and she told me about a moment that stayed with her.
The holidays were approaching, the city lights shimmered against the cold air, and she was sitting alone in her living room watching a single candle burn.

It wasn’t for Christmas.
It wasn’t for Hanukkah.
It wasn’t tied to any tradition in particular.

She lit it simply because she wanted a moment of light.

After she lit the candle, she said it reminded her of something she had nearly forgotten:
that beginnings don’t always arrive loudly.
Sometimes they start with the smallest spark—one that only grows when we give it room.

At the time, she had just ended a string of disappointing dates. She felt tired, like the season had expanded every emotion she’d been trying to manage. And yet, as she watched that quiet flame steady itself, she realized something profound.

She had been expecting connection to appear instantly, like fireworks.
But the most meaningful things in her life—her career, her friendships, the stability she had built—didn’t begin that way at all.

They began exactly like that candle: slowly, steadily, quietly… then beautifully.

She decided that night to approach dating with the same openness she brought to the holidays—softened, hopeful, present. She stopped rushing chemistry. She stopped questioning her worth. She started allowing connection to unfold instead of forcing it to perform.

And when she showed up that way?
Everything shifted.

The man she eventually chose wasn’t the flashiest or the loudest.
He was consistent.
Warm.
Thoughtful.
He showed up the way real love shows up—aligned, grounded, and ready.

Holiday seasons have a way of bringing this truth to the surface:
We are surrounded by light, but we have to slow down long enough to see it.

As you step into these next few days—whether you’re celebrating Christmas, reflecting on Hanukkah, honoring another tradition, or simply embracing the stillness of winter—I hope you allow yourself one moment to breathe.

One moment to remember that your story is still expanding.
One moment to recognize how deeply you deserve the kind of connection that doesn’t flicker out.
One moment to choose openness again.

May this season bring you peace, warmth, and a renewed sense of possibility.
May you notice the small sparks.
May you feel the return of light in your own life, in your own timing, in your own way.

Wishing you a meaningful, heart-opening holiday season.

Xx Elizabeth

Remember, you’re only one date away from a loving relationship.