Ryanne Molinari

I am terrible at keeping track of people’s addresses, and this is the worst time of year for me to add another to-do, so consider this post my digital Christmas letter. Do you like the photo I chose?

Billy and I have had another lovely year of long runs, strong coffee, good books, and more than a few church events.

In March, we traveled to New York City, where I sang and played piano with Chorale Midwest at Carnegie Hall. Although we reveled in the bookstores and performing at Carnegie was thrilling, Iowa is much more comfortable for two homebodies like us.

Right after Easter, I returned to my alma mater, Biola University, and a few other Christian schools to do several workshops on worship music. It was nice to see old friends and dear places, and especially pleasant to be at Biola without having to practice five hours a day. (Although, I admit, I miss this rhythm.)

May brought flower-planting weather, and I was thrilled to be outdoors again. Growing up in Phoenix, I’d always dreaded summer. But in Iowa, I bask in the sunshine as much as I can, knowing the cold will return much too soon. Better still, my parents spend much of their time here during the summer so we went on many bike rides together on a trail that just so happens to lead to our favorite ice cream shop. Oops.

In August, Billy and I attended a session at Covenant Theological Seminary, where he had decided to pursue a Doctor of Ministry degree. Dane Ortlund, the author of Gentle and Lowly, led our class and it was a refreshing, inspiring week. I decided to take the plunge and am doing the program alongside Billy. It’s so rewarding to be in school again, and marvelous how God worked it out for us to study together.

September and October were full of papers, concerts, choir rehearsals, and Sunday services. This October was particularly beautiful, with mild weather and gorgeous foliage. I can’t imagine living anywhere without seasons again—though I may be singing a different tune when it is March and still too icy to run outside.

Thanksgiving brought the first snow, and stubbornly, Billy and I decided to run our annual half marathon that same day. It ended up being beautiful and we heartily enjoyed our meal when we got home. It was the first time I’d cooked a Thanksgiving dinner and I never ever want to hear the word “giblets” again. Ever.

Christmas concerts and services are winding down, and we are looking forward to a week in Arizona. Billy will preach on Christmas Eve, and, as always, I’m looking forward to hearing him do what he loves. He continues to serve our sweet church with diligence, and we are thankful the Lord led us here two and a half years ago. I continue to love my “two-church shuffle,” and am thankful that God saw fit to place me in two wonderful congregations.

S’mores (our cat) has had another full year of napping and birdwatching from our screened-in porch. To my surprise, her veterinarian says she’s the perfect weight, despite the fact that she cons Billy into giving her extra kibbles every morning. But, really, who could say no to her little face?

Looking back over this year, I am struck by how small it seems when written out in a single post. And yet, it all felt so vivid and urgent. A phrase I read in a novel recently sums up how I feel:

“This is the story of my life, that while I lived it weighed upon me and pressed against me and filled all my senses to overflowing and now is like a dream dreamed.”

Hannah Coulter, by Wendell Berry

I hope you, reader, have a merry Christmas. To help, please enjoy this playlist of cozy theological Christmas music:

I’ve been listening to this on repeat now, and it has helped me focus my mind and calm my heart during a season that can quickly become harried and anxious. In this month of increasing darkness, I hope you’ll find comfort in looking to the Light of the World.

Joyfully,

Ryanne