Join the Circle of Light

The wreath lay on the table — green, fragrant, woven from branches.
It looked as if it knew something important, but wasn’t in a hurry to tell.

“Why is it always round?” Al asked.

“Because a very long time ago,” May said, “people decided that a circle is the easiest shape for meaning.”

She slowly turned the wreath so everyone could see it.

“Wreaths existed long before Christmas. In Ancient Rome, people hung them on doors, in homes, and in temples. Back then, a wreath was a sign of good fortune, protection, wholeness, and abundance.”

“So it was like saying, ‘Everything’s alright here’?” SteFun asked.

“Something like that,” May smiled.

SoFay tucked in a sprig of fir.

“And evergreen plants weren’t chosen by accident,” she added. “In Europe, people noticed that fir, pine, and laurel stay green even in winter. They didn’t know the word biology, but they understood the important part — life doesn’t disappear.”

“And that mattered most in winter,” May continued. “When it’s cold and dark and it feels like everything has stopped. Around Yule, after the longest night, the days began to grow again. Not all at once — just a little. And people realised that time doesn’t move in a straight line. It moves in a circle.”

She paused, then added:

“The candles came much later. In Christian times.”

Al looked up.
“So it’s not some kind of ancient magic?”

“No,” May shook her head. “It’s a very specific story. In the 19th century, a pastor named Johann Wichern made the first true Advent wreath. He added many candles so children could see how long they still had to wait. They kept asking him when Christmas would come.”

“One candle after another,” SteFun said.

“Exactly,” May nodded. “The light grows slowly. Not all at once — step by step.”

SoFay studied the circle thoughtfully.

“But why does a wreath make sense even if you don’t know the story?”

“Because a circle doesn’t need explaining,” May said. “A Christmas wreath with four candles is like a small map of the world — four directions, four weeks of waiting. The circle means safety and continuity, the green means life, and the candles are the light that slowly returns at Christmas.”

“That’s why it hangs on the door,” Al realised.

“Yes,” May said. “It means: people live here. People are welcome. There is warmth inside.”

She adjusted the ribbon gently.

“Over time, wreaths became personal. People stopped making them ‘by the rules’ and started adding what mattered to them — berries, ribbons, bells, small figures, memories.”

“So,” SoFay said, “a wreath isn’t about just one religion or tradition.”

“No,” May agreed. “A wreath is a way of connecting time itself — Yule, Christmas, New Year, and today. It doesn’t belong to one belief or one age. It belongs to people who, every year, gather the circle again and choose what they want to carry forward.”

SteFun leaned closer to the wreath.

“So… if I hang a gingerbread man on it, that’s allowed?”

“More than allowed,” May said seriously. “As long as he doesn’t run away.”

Al thought for a moment.

“What if I add an owl?”

“Excellent choice,” SoFay said. “Someone has to guard the gingerbread at night.”

“Then I’ll add a star,” SteFun decided. “Just in case. It’s good to have direction.”

✨ And if you were making your own wreath — what would you choose to add? ✨