I am not good. I am not pure. I have a wicked heart, sometimes, and don't always want to do what's best for others, but only for myself. And yet you still love me. How is that possible? How is it so? Do you see the faults in all of us, and have the patience of a saint, the flaws of a human, and the desires of a spirit? How is it so? How can this be? I will thank you for what seem like little gifts: the fish, the spells, the antidotes to tired worlds, and just for a little while, just for a moment, you take me away from it. I am not good. I am not pure. But you make my wicked heart and help me walk in grace. Love to all of you in this season of light, hope, and triumph over darkness.