Fifth Day of Christmas - 12/29

A beckoning star: a light shining in darkness.  A Light whose energy tugs at something buried so deeply within my self I had forgotten it's power.  No, not entirely true: I had run from it's power; I had exchanged the creative power of "my inmost self" for the comfortable security of the world's power.

Allowing ourselves to be open and willing to be called: beckoned: summoned is one of the themes of the Christmas season; a journey leading to Epiphany.  Epiphany, the feast of the Wise Men or Magi who left their kingdoms to follow a star leading them to the stable where Jesus: the Christ child, lay is another of the great stories where the juicy part has been sucked out and most of us only recall the ending.  The ending, where the kings present their gifts to the Christ child is lovely, however it is has little significance for our living if we don't dive into the darkness.

Stars shine most brightly in darkness.  I was reminded of this truth while in Sedona a couple weeks ago and the light pollution from the city was absent so I experienced darkness with clarity;  depth allowing layers of stars to be seen.  If I want to be metaphorical here (and I do) I can say that the light pollution in the city which obscures the depth of the light in the night sky, is like the activity-pollution of our living which obscures the 'still small voice' within our being.

The 'still small voice' within whispers even more softly than our conscience; that part of self which we sometimes hear arguing  with our ego-self.  The 'still small voice' is our Spirit voice; the voice of our being that remembers our original story of living; our purpose for being created and sent to live on earth. Our Spirit voice requires stillness to be heard; no activity, no television, no computer - nothing but being.

I have shared that twenty-five years or so ago I began setting my alarm for thirty minutes before the house awakened in order to sit in stillness on the patio.  My goal at the time was to fit into my living thirty minutes of sanity: a time when 'me' was not being called by the demands of children, husband, house and work. The 'me' I was desiring a relationship with had nothing to do with God, I was desiring to experience the me who loved to think and to read and write.

I did in fact discover and renew a relationship with that 'me', but as the relationship deepened sipping coffee in silence as a new day was born and eventually beginning again to write in a journal, I also glimmered a Living Presence that was much larger that 'me.'  This Living Presence was deeply personal; the God who lived within the gifts of me; the God who had created me and desired to be in relationship.  The God who had beckoned me onto the patio during a time I was experiencing a darkness of despair in my living: the God I came to experience as a beckoning Light.

No one is exactly sure how long the Magi's journey took as they followed the star; the beckoning Light high in the darkness of sky .Story tells us they came from the East and therefore it is assumed it took a long time; months or maybe years. From my vantage point of being sixty years of age, this 'long journey' they made is one of the grand hopes we are blessed with for within it I hear that life unfolds mysteriously and over sometimes long stretches of our living. Our job is to make ourselves available to being present to the unfolding.

In the nativity narrative we are reminded that each of us has a means of being present to this mysterious unfolding. We are also reminded that when we are truly present to The Mystery, we humans will be frightened or terrified. Four times the Gospels telling the stories of the unfolding of conception, carrying, birthing and announcing of New Life the persons involved are told some form of 'do not be afraid.'  I have always been grateful for these words of kindness and understanding for without them I would have long ago given up my early morning time and remained snuggled in my comfortable cocoon: my living only partially awake to the fullness of life.

I have learned that I need to deliberately removed myself from my cocoon in order to be present and still to hearing the kind assurance of God: 'do not be afraid, I have found favor with you.' And so I have taken to heart what Mary taught us: to treasure up the blessings of each day and to ponder upon them in gratitude. Without regular, hopefully daily, times of stillness it is virtually impossible to respond to the beckoning light tugging and releasing the creative power of God within. Why do we become frightened? Because the shell of your ego-self will crack open in order for the dormant life to grow it's life toward the Light: cracking open may feel rather uncomfortable and so we need to regularly drink the Good News watering our seed of self.

The Good News in all of this? God is lovingly gracious and always present if we simply make the effort of being available and remaining available. The other Good News?  We have lots and lots of stories of people who have gone before us showing us the way: each of us is individual and unique, however we are not alone on the journey.  Even the Wise Men were three or possibly four or maybe even twelve - no one is quite sure - but the story again tells us that we are not alone on this human/divine journey.

Fourth Day of Christmas - 12/28

IT COSTS SO much to be a full human being that there are very few who have
the courage to pay the price. One has to abandon
altogether the search for security and reach out to the risk of living with
both arms open. One has to embrace the world like a lover. One has to accept
pain as a condition of existence. One has to court doubt and darkness as the
cost of knowing. One needs a will stubborn in conflict, but apt always to
total acceptance of every consequence of living and dying.

Morris West

This is one of my favorite quotes by one of my favorite authors {and I will apologize right now as the quote copy will make this post appear longer.} I love his beautifully written description of 'heart-courage.'  Courage, as a word, is derived from the French word 'couer' meaning heart.  All true  courage is grown in our heart. 


Faith requires courage; the courageous faith Mary, Joseph and Elizabeth had. The kind Zacharias did not have. It took time for Zacharias to cultivate courage in order to move from belief into faith. His growing of courage for living his faith took a few months, but oh how lovely when it took root and his tongue was loosened.  When he was asked the  name of the child, he responded as the angel had said (and he had rejected) and then prophesied about his son John who would be called the Baptizer: "And you child will be called prophet of the Most High; for you will go on before the Lord to prepare his ways; to give to His people the knowledge of salvation by the forgiveness of their sins, Because of the tender mercy of our God." (Luke 1:76-78)

Talk about courageous! Few people were more courageous than John the Baptist.  I wrote that sentence and then thought, actually scripture and most especially the Gospels and New Testament are full of courageous persons who risked everything to live their story, went through my mind. Come to think of it, the New Testament is actually the first set of action adventure Super Hero books.

What  was the story God gave these people in our scripture stories? What was the 'power' that made them the original super heroes?  One day the disciples asked Jesus what was the most important commandment.  And Jesus responded, "I give you but one command, love one another as I have loved you."  As I.  Three tiny letters forming an entire injunction of how to live for 'as' means in the manner of.  Love in the manner of Jesus. 

Now, I am fully aware I am not ever going to live and love as totally as Jesus, for even in human form, he was God: Emmanuel - God among us.  But, I don't think Jesus expected perfection of his disciples; I believe his expectation was passion, that they desire to love God as passionately as humanly possible. The capacity for loving passionately was their super power.

Again, like yesterday you might ask; what does this have to do with this little season of Christmas?  Haven't we skipped way ahead in the story?  Yes and no. Yes, we've skipped ahead but only to remind ourselves that the intention of these two beginning seasons in the liturgical calendar: Advent and Christmas, are to prepare ourselves for walking the full year of learning to live God's love. 

We prepare for our year's journey by cultivating courage of the heart,.  The need for heart-courage is one of the reasons I love that Zecharias is one of the major players in the Nativity Story.  I understand Zecharias: his rebellious and angry "how can this be?" when Elizabeth; barren all their married life and now past the age of conceiving tells him she is pregnant.  I understand Zecharias' demand for certainty when the angel announced to him that Elizabeth will have a son: "how will I know this for certain?" I can hear his mind thinking "prove this ridiculous thing to me" for I have also said that to God.  Zecharias believed, but he did not YET have faith in that which is irrational. True faith rarely makes rational sense when we go to LIVE it.

Again, we return to Mary, the woman of great quietly courageous faith, able to say yes to the unexpected Angel and yes to God and to conceive, and carry, and birth that which made no sense.  

Mary continued to do the action which had grown her courageous heart and spirit big enough to say yes to the angel: "she treasured up these things and pondered them in her heart."  This is how we begin to grow heart-courage: we pray and treasure up the inexplicable blessings of love given each day. We sit in stillness, rocking newly born life and ponder the mysterious unfolding of God in our own life.

Third day of Christmas ...12/27

One of the I reasons I resonate so deeply to Mary's response: and she "treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart," is I have learned, professionally and personally, that the treasures of our heart and what we ponder determines virtually all of our living.

Many years ago my professional life involved understanding what makes human beings 'tick.'  The majority of this professional life was working in churches but I also worked in the field of alcoholism and drug recovery.  Either way what I learned was that we human beings are an awfully lot like squirrels: we continually scrounge around for fallen 'nuts' and hide them away in a secret cache, which is 'to treasure up.'

Like squirrels who hoard found nuts, what we fill our 'cache' with becomes our food for living. Being human rather than a squirrel means we are complex beings created with the ability to choose which nuts to leave behind and which to hoard. The ego-self, which is concerned with looking good and surviving comfortably, tends to seek nuggets proving our worth to the world, our pride of possession or titles, fortune, fame or just plain living up to cultural standards of 'looking good.'  Unfortunately, these 'treasures' do not offer many nutrients for the soul and tend to intensify the ego's fear of loss.

What I also know is that we cannot get rid of our ego: if you're human and functioning you're going to have an ego. Therefore the intention is not to get rid of our ego, but to have it become the servant rather than the master of our living. God apparently knew this for God created us as complex beings.  Yes, the ego-self is real but so too are our heart and our spirit. When balanced, all three components of being human function toward wholeness.

The only thing I know of that is stronger than the ego-self as master, is the Spirit of God's love and Goodness: the intention therefore is to feed the heart and Spirit so they become larger and larger and the ego-self thinner and thinner. All you really need for living is a thin, permeable skin of an ego-self.

The picture above is a rocking chair overlooking some beautiful scenery.  The image evokes a sense of stillness and peace.  I chose this image because I know the way of enlarging the heart so it opens and expands to receive the Spirit of God's goodness, is to create a time of stillness every day dedicated to this single intention. Stillness is absolutely essential to allowing our inmost self to awaken.

Our essential spirit - the inmost self God created to live in our heart - when first aroused is a timid creature; it shies away from noise and activity and easily becomes wary and skittish.  Unless it feels safe, it will fold itself into a protective cocoon. In the cocoon it remains alive but becomes dormant and unavailable for our living.  Once awakened, like a newly born infant it needs to be held close and rocked to the beating of our heart. This time of rocking our Spirit in stillness is where we, like Mary, become able to treasure up the goodness of God; we count our blessings, we recall the miracles of living and we ponder the mystery of God unfolding in our life.

And what you may ask does all this have to do with this tiny season of 12 days leading us to Epiphany? Well, there are two stories happening here in this little season.  One story is of new life being born within our heart . New life is uncomfortable; boggling our preconceived notions and upsetting routines of thought and feeling. Tending new life requires holding it closely to our body, rocking gently and singing it lullabies of love. The other story is of the Wise Men who left all that defined them (the ego-self) in order to follow a star and bring both the gifts of their heart and the great affirmation of what the birth in that stable in Bethlehem meant to the world.

Birthing new life (Mary's story) and living the truth of our 'inmost self' (the Wise Men's story) requires a heart that has come alive with God's Spirit of love and goodness.  The first step toward God's Spirit being alive and real within our heart is the simple step of creating space: we choose to spend some time each day in stillness and open ourselves in gratitude to God.

The lines from a poem I shared a couple weeks ago keep running through my mind: "make in my heart a mystic place, of self and sin swept bare.  Where I may look upon Thy face and talk with Thee in prayer."

Second Day of Christmas 12/26

Despite all the food consumed, the ripped wrapping paper and the shedding tree, the true Christmas season begins today.  This tiny season is a 12 day reflective journey leading to Epiphany, the feast celebrating the arrival in Bethlehem of the three Kings. We call these kings the Wise Men, who according to the world's wisdom were foolish rather than wise for they left their kingdoms, power and comforts to following a star beckoning their hearts and spirits.

There are a couple important experiences recorded in this tiny season's story: three affirmations and two cautions.

The Christ child has been born and the shepherds, hearing the Angels announce: "Today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger",  and they went to see if this was true.

Up to now in the story, this conception and birth as the fulfillment of the long awaited promise has been privately held within a very small circle: Mary, Elizabeth and Zechariah and Joseph.  Now word of of this great gift is widening into a larger circle.

Radiating circles of awareness is the theme of this journey. Little by little experiences of affirmation will be experienced during this little season. Each affirmation is not only a blessing to Mary and Joseph, but also an experience expanding what is known and understood. Allowing awareness to expand is one theme of this tiny journey.

The second theme comes as the Feast of Epiphany ends but the message is essential to understanding the importance of this little journey as it is a warning to us all.  Both Joseph and The Kings were told in a dream and by angels: "do not return by the way you came."

Returning is an interesting caution and from my experience, can be taken a couple different ways.  One is to remember that the Liturgical calendar; a yearly circular walking of the story of God and human beings interacting begins ANEW every year with the season of unexpected conception, pregnancy and birth: Advent.  I believe built into this design is a caution to not become complacent: do not return to last year's ways or as Isaiah said: "Do not call to mind the former things, or ponder things of the past.  Behold, I will do something new, Now it springs up; Do you not perceive it?"  Willingness to open ourselves to unexpected experiences of blessing is essential to our journey of growing with God.

Another way of hearing the caution of returning is the temptation which happens to me about this point in new learning: it seems as though I have done enough, the chaos is tiresome and couldn't I please just have things be comfortable.  About this point in a journey of learning to perceiving life differently, discomfort is beginning to be felt: my inner compass is out of whack and feeling lost or about to lose my bearings is annoyingly common.  Comfortable routines are but a memory and what once was "okay" is now feels boring or irritating. New life may be joyous but it is rarely comfortable.

There is a glorious line in the Nativity narrative telling us exactly how to keep ourselves from returning to our old ideas. The shepherds, leaving their fields and flocks, arrive at the stable and exactly as the angels told them, they see the child wrapped in swaddling clothes. No doubt everyone present is now chattering away about angels and tidings and birthings and babies: for this is what we human beings do.

"But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart."

'Treasured up and pondered in her heart'; this beautifully poetic line shows how to 'not return by the way we came.'  We begin the twelve days of Christmas by pondering our Advent journey: what gifts did you receive?  Has some new awareness, need or love been conceived?  How has the gift manifested and grown? How will you make room for what has been offered?  Do you need to do anything to tend the gift?

If you don't have the white candle for the middle of your Advent wreath, I'd suggest getting yourself a candle for this twelve day journey.  This is the Christ Candle, the flame acknowledges the promise has been fulfilled.  The time of lighting each day would be a lovely way to begin pondering what is within your heart.  If you have a notebook or journal, the questions above might be fun to write about.  Whatever you do however, remember the caution to not return by the way you came, for a new thing is happening and our task is to learn to perceive it.

Christmas Eve

Have you ever thought about the wondrous gift God gave us by allowing His Son, Jesus to be born in a stable? For me, the stable is a wonderful image of hope. Let me tell you a story.

I was about 21 and in a terrible relationship: living with a young man who was an alcoholic.  I was in the early stages of alcoholism and also getting to play the role of the Alanon - I hated my life.  Yet, as much as I disliked the situation I was in, my pride (not to mention stupidity) kept me from going to my parents because they were angry with my decision to live with him.  Pride and stubbornness kept me stuck and miserable, as well as the financial reality that my name was on the lease.  To me there was no way out of my miserable living.

One day we had a terrible fight and in anger I picked up a heavy glass ashtray and flung it at him. It missed him by barely an inch and that was only because he ducked. Horrified at my action that clearly could have seriously injured him, I ran from the apartment and down the stairs to a patch of grass where I began to sob: not crying but heaving sobs of rage and self loathing.

I had not prayed since I had begun drinking and behaving in ways that went completely against my values, but as I sobbed I heard my voice saying: "God, whatever you created in me that makes me me, is dying.  And if I stay here it will be dead - the me you made will die. Please don't let it die."

The next day (yes, the very next day !), with courage and strength I knew was not mine, I packed up my stuff and moved back into my parents house.  I would love to tell you that all was instantly well, but, I'm a slow learner: the champion of baby steps.  It would be two years before I was able to accept the gift of sobriety and truly begin to have my life turn around. But my slowness is not the point of the story (though some might find it encouraging.)

The point is that God heard the sobbing prayer of my heart and gave me the grace and ability to do what I had not been able to do: God did for me what I, in my shame and pride, had been unable to do. The part of me that God made as me: my one-of-a-kind 'inmost self', remained alive.  And this story is why I am very grateful that Jesus was born in a stable.

If Jesus: the Son of God: the Long Awaited Messiah and Emmanuel; God with us, was born in an unused stall in the animal's stable why should we even for a second, balk at the idea that God desires to live in the poverty of our humanness.  Clearly as I learned sitting in despair on that patch of grass, you don't have to dress up for God, in fact your life can be as ugly as mine was and God will happily meet you.  All God asks is that we desire Him with all our heart and offer our humble humanness as His home.

Today in the Nativity narrative, Mary and Joseph, tired from their long journey and on the verge of giving birth, went from inn to inn asking if they could please have a room.  Over and over they were told no: the inn was full. Finally, one kindly person, taking the time to think of possibilities, offered a stall stabling his animals.

Today, the story we have been walking asks: are you willing to offer the poverty of your heart to an unexpected grace called Love? And, not just as a place for love to lay its head, no, a place for God's love to birth new Life.

Sunday - fourth week in Advent

Thirty years ago this moment in the Nativity narrative became deeply poignant for me: suddenly I identified with the story in a new way.  At the time I was very pregnant with my first son and when I heard this part of the story it hit me that when Mary was only a few days away from birthing, she rode on a donkey for ninety-five miles: when I was that close to birthing, sitting on a chair was painful!  The idea of settling my body on a donkey's bony back for that long of a journey was mind-boggling.

Having one's mind boggled has terrific benefits; old certainties scramble and as words and images whir around and settle into a different pattern, a newness awakens.  The new awakening for me was seeing Mary and Joseph in a very human light. What I saw was a very young couple still new in their relationship to one another and learning how to be present; how to understand and respond: how to love within their actions of living.

And, in their actions of living, oh my, the mind-boggling events that had occurred for each of them!  Mary's visitation by an angel and the announcement that not only was she 'with child' but this child was the long awaited Messiah.  Joseph's plans for a normal married life were upended by Mary's news and he also needed an angel to 'boggle' his ideas of how to respond to her.

In Matthew's gospel we are told that after Mary told him of her experience of the angel and was now "being found to be with child by the Holy Spirit" Joseph acted in a very human way. "And Joseph her husband, being a righteous man, and not wanting to disgrace her, desired to put her away secretly." Righteousness indicates that Joseph was a good person: morally correct and law abiding which are terrific qualities for living.  However, what we discover in the layers of story was that his old ideas of goodness would need to be altered in order to live the story God had placed within his heart.

Matthew's recounting of Joseph's story continues with: "but when Joseph had considered this, behold an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream saying, 'Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for that which has been conceived in her IS of the Holy Spirit ...and Joseph arose from his sleep and did as the angel commanded him." Now, in this story we have two persons awakened to new patterns of perceiving life: both carry in their heart an experience of God's touch by an angel.

When I see the picture above I am aware of their togetherness and their individuality: each had a separate experience of God awakening their heart in a new way and each was asked to trust in faith that their experience would come alive in new birth: their individual stories would slowly entwine into an experience of oneness.

Like we living today, their life unfolded day by day.  We who hear and read their story know it in it's completeness and so it is easy to forget that they also did not know how their living in faith would take shape. Like us, they did not know exactly how the words of their angels would, over time, form into their story of life.

What they did know however was an assurance the angels spoke each time love altered life: Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth, Zechariah, shepherds and kings, were each told "do not be afraid."  Personally, I take great comfort and courage from this kindness of God: God's recognition that it is difficult to accept love: we need the assurance of God's personal love in order to receive the fullness of life.

Today we light the fourth candle on the Advent wreath.  This candle is called the candle of love; may you see within the hot flame of Light, the comforting words, 'do not be afraid' to accept the fullness of God's love.

Saturday - third week in Advent

Sitting on the patio early this morning I was thinking how upside-down life has become these last few days before Christmas. My room is messy with bags of unwrapped gifts, the chair in the dining room is piled with wrapping materials, my to-do list is very different than normal and the grocery list has stuff on it that only appears during the holiday season.  My tasks are not normal: shopping (I rarely shop), post office, cleaning the kitchen four times as frequently each day because I've been baking and now the dining room table is cluttered with containers of cookies.

The normalcy of routine is thrown out the window if you actively participate in the holiday season - which is the primary reason a lot of people I know do not like Christmas: they don't like how messy life becomes.

Hopefully this outer messiness of the holiday season is mirroring your spiritual life: Advent calls us to relinquish our ideas and expectations of God and allow all kinds of messy interruptions to turn even our 'good' routines upside-down.

Advent calls us to remember that God is not especially tidy and orderly: God is the Life Force of Love and love and loving are not tidy. New life - love and babies, spiritual or human, are anything but tidy. The God who sent Jesus - Emmanuel: God with us - born as a human baby is not a predictable God either in human history nor in personal experience.

As I prayed this morning about what to share today, I was reminded of a poem I wrote during another Advent journey:

This morning trees swayed and danced while
storm clouds streamed through the sky playing
peek-a-boo with a crescent moon.

As the storm gathered energy, I heard an unbound God
in rushing, roaring wind humming wild music of untamed Love.

I felt a boldly adventurous God in the storminess of weather:
A God so audacious in bestowing love

that we imperfect humans  are chosen to be vessels
for birthing wildly creative love into the world.

Stormy music played about me and in my mind's eye
I stood in a dark wintry field with shepherds,
struck dumb in terror hearing a chorus of Angels singing:
"Do not be afraid! For behold, I bring you
Good News of Great Joy which shall be for all the people."

As the storm tore branches off the tree,
the message of Angels crumbled walls in my heart:
streaming rain battered windows as grace
flowed freely in a newly unbound heart.

Storms, singing angels, newly born babies, love, stars shining brightly and beckoning us away from comfort are all untidy and messy interruptions to preconceived ideas of how things should be. Advent reminds us that our God is wildly untamed love flowing freely, unconditionally and asking: will you accept what I give.

Oh, and the reason for the decidedly non-spiritual picture today?  Well, I just wanted my expectations, and yours, to be turned upside-down.  Besides, the painting is titled Mark Twain as Santa Claus and personally, I believe Mark Twain was an unrecognized saint: he lived his gifts passionately and fully and thus bestowed new life into our world.

"Here - take this."
What is it?
It is new Life.
I can't tell if it's a weed or a flower.
It is new Life.
I'd like to know what it will grow into.
It is Life.  I offer you new Life.
That's what you say, but what is it?
I offer you new Life ...will you accept what I am giving you?"
Well first, I really wish you'd tell me what it is and what it will become;
and how it will affect me and ....
It is new Life ..."

If you reflect on the Nativity narrative, what you may see is that the core plot of the story is the concept of receiving new life.  In some ways that seems obvious since Christmas is the celebration of birth, however, in order to birth new life each person had to say yes to receiving New Life that made no sense.

Mary, a virgin, was asked to say yes to conceiving from the Holy Spirit.  Joseph was asked to say yes to a story that interrupted his plans and required a completely new way of perceiving.  Elizabeth was asked to believe new life was growing within her after she had accepted that she was barren.  The Shepherds left their duty and responsibility: their fields and flocks to joyously confirm a message they had not been expecting. Oh, and the Three Kings, we haven't touched on their story yet but they said yes to new life which meant leaving their power, security and comfort in order to bring Mary confirmation of what the Angel had told her.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I wrote in my journal, "it is a very strange experience to feel life growing and blooming within me while at the same time being aware of a great sadness and sorrow.  Joy and sorrow ... life and death ... somehow they are intimately linked."

Because it was my first pregnancy I did not understand the words I wrote.  It took birthing and growing into my role as a mother before I had an inkling as to why I had written them.  Today I understand them well: not only was I growing a new life, I was simultaneously surrendering my old life.  On some very instinctive level, I knew saying yes to new life would entail an ending to a self and way of living that had been comfortable and familiar.

Accepting new life always means dying to an old way of perceiving. Often the longer we live, the more difficult it becomes to say yes: we know that something we are comfortable with will die - most of us would therefore like an outline of what will happen BEFORE saying yes. Faith however, asks for acceptance of the New Life offered.

This truth is poignantly real to me this year.  Much happened in my way of living and like Elizabeth, I accepted what seemed to be a barrenness; an aching loneliness.  I understand the concept of being a virgin for the new life that quietly grew was not result of deliberate planning; it was more like the tiny sprout pictured here that I noticed and then began to nurture: not knowing what kind of seed it came from. Like Joseph, in order to accept the story of new life, I surrendered to a new way of perceiving and therefore, my way of living was altered.

Throughout this past year, joy and sorrow have intermingled and entwined themselves into a new image of living.  Honestly, I cannot tell you that I fully see the image being created, nor can I tell you that I fully understand it.  What I can say is that this year I am particularly grateful to hear Mary's story once again with her words, "let it be done unto me according to Thy will."

My hope is that you are able to peer into your living this past year and name the sprouts of new life with gratitude - even if like me, you have no idea of what kind of seed they are growing from or how New Life will alter your living.

Thursday - third week in Advent

The glow of God's light shining from a human being.

Pictured is one of the important messages of our Advent journey: remembering we are called to be human in the manner Mary showed us: if we knowingly say 'yes', our joy of living will be found by birthing the Light of God into the world.

Often in mythologies, only gods birth gods but not in our Christian story.  Our Christian story tells us that God depends upon we human creations of God to carry God into the world:  We, imperfect, flawed vessels of flesh and blood are designed to emit Light that is not human.

I've always believed Great Stories remain alive, no matter how long ago they were formed, because Great Stories contain truth.  Even when we do not fully understand the truth of a story, our gut resonates or our heart sings and the story keeps finding hearts and minds to live from.

For me, one of the truths of the incarnation is found in Mary's role: our humanness is not only used, it is essential to God's plan. The gospel of Matthew begins with the genealogy of Jesus: a long line of human beings who kept the promise of the Messiah alive through centuries. Luke gives us the Nativity narrative and the people so familiar to our telling of the birth of the Christ child. And John offers the gorgeously poetic: "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God ...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld his glory."

Those who 'beheld His glory' were so altered by the experience that the trajectory of religious history was forever changed. Each 'beholders' heart was ignited when the Spirit of God came upon them; in the form of an angel, a dream, a star far, far away, a flame of love, the hearing of a story - God has infinite ways of offering the opportunity for 'yes.' For over 2000 years, millions of people have whispered yes to the God in their heart.

Oh, you'll find flaws in every person (except maybe Mary) who answered 'yes.' Read the Gospels carefully and you'll discover the disciples were at times very slow learners; they screwed up in almost every manner possible except one: they loved Jesus and desired most of all to learn to how to love as He showed them.

Read scripture carefully and you'll find multitudes of unique personalities and wildly varying ways they loved. Why?  Well, it seems to me this affirms the idea that God needs a diversity of lovers to fully illustrate His story of love.  Or at least that's my take as I believe each person is a creation of God, deliberately chosen to live on earth and tell a story of loving that can only be told through their living.  Each individual creation of God has a purpose for being alive.

But there's a paradox to God's design for bringing His light of love into the world.  My love of stories leads me to suspect that perhaps it is the paradox that keeps us telling the story over and over as we travel the circular liturgical calendar.  Each journey through the seasons allows us to glimmer the story's message in greater and greater fullness.

The paradox of God's design for bringing love into the world is our humanness.  We must be fully human in order to be fully alive, and living the story God has entrusted us demands we be fully alive. Both realities: humanness and relationship with God, must be embraced.  The is no 'cure' for being a flawed and imperfect human - this is the design.  There is however a 'remedy' for the various miseries of being  flawed, imperfect, cantankerous humans:  we glimpse the beginning of this truth in Mary's story.

Wednesday - third week in Advent

Cookies - luscious cookies: one of the wonderful treats of Christmas season!  I've been baking a lot the past couple weeks and I'm always a little amazed by the magic of creating cookies.  For most of my living I was not much of a baker; a good 'dump and pour' cook yes, baking however requires following directions, accurate measurement and patience - it is not a dump and pour process.

The patience needed for baking is what tripped me up: learning to cream butter and sugar thoroughly, learning to add the ingredients in order; mixing each addition carefully so they were fully combined: united into a new substance. Baking requires awareness and attention.

The foundation for good cookies lies in the creaming of butter and sugar: mixing these two very different ingredients until they are totally absorbed into one another and become a fluffy pool able to cheerfully accept the "hardness" of the flour binding the sweet buttery goodness into the cookie that will make your mouth smile.

I disliked the time it took for butter and sugar to be completely absorbed into one another: I'd dump the two together and then, for what seemed like a ridiculous amount of time, whir the beaters over and over through the lumpy butter and grainy sugar: fluffy took a long time to achieve.  One day not so long ago I was reading something about baking and it said: "when creaming butter and sugar, first cream the butter alone so it opens and more readily receives the sugar."  

Wow - a new idea.  New idea that really works and, as I've discovered, not only decreases the combining of the two substances into half the time, the combining is much more complete and the fluffiness is lovely: my enjoyment of cookie making took a giant leap forward.

Yesterday as I creamed  butter into a pool of softened goodness, preparing it to receiving the sugar, it hit me that combining butter and sugar in this new way was similar to another discovery that came into my life.

A little over a decade ago I read a line that changed my way of perceiving life and living: "All God asks is that you be open to seeing and receiving the one hundred blessings placed in your life each day."  One HUNDRED blessings every day gifted to me !!  The number seemed huge, how could this be?  Oh, my head could grasp the concept, but feeling the experience of receiving as I went through the day was a little elusive until one day, my spirit seemed to open in a new way.

My heart is like butter that generally needs to sit and soften before it is ready to be mixed and opened into receiving the sugar. Getting up and having my first action of the day be to take some time to just sit in stillness and bring my self into the presence of God is the first step toward softening. As I then begin my prayers of gratitude, I feel my softened heart expanding beyond my little self and opening my Being to the immensity of God's love and blessings.

Blessings are the sugar of life. Just as I've discovered that creaming butter and sugar is much, much easier if the butter is first softened and creamed, so too are blessings more easily recognized and received throughout the day if my heart has first been opened and expanded.

Oh, and that fluffy pool of sweet goodness resulting from butter and sugar thoroughly creamed? That in now my self  ready to receive the ingredients of living.  I've discovered that I take bit of time to pause every now during the  day, and say thank you for the blessings, well, it seems as though Love then bakes the day into a tasty cookie making my heart smile.

Tuesday - third week in Advent

Last summer I did something really dumb.  I went up north to the family cabin for five glorious days out of the summer desert heat and although I gave the plants a good watering before I left, I neglected to provide additional water for my pot of mini-roses.  When I descended from the mountain into high summer the pot contained brown sticks and soil littered with brown leaves.  I cannot tell you have sad and pissed off I was at my stupidity for I had loved and babied the pot of  mini-bushes for almost two years.

My normal tendency when I've done something resulting in feeling sad and stupid, and where a remedy does not seem available is to get rid of the evidence so to not  be reminded of being sad and dumb.  I thought seriously of throwing away the pot, but since I couldn't bring myself to throw away a good pot, I began to pick through the wreckage. Hidden midst the dead stalks was one with a tiny bit of green: such a tiny bit of green I thought I might be imagining it, but I left it intact and watered.

For weeks my pot with one tiny semi-green stalk looked sad and lonely but as it's my optimistic nature to encourage life, I continued watering, gave it some Miracle Grow and moved the pot about hoping to give it the right amount amount of sun and not have it's tiny life snuffed out by our desert summer sun. The itty-bitty stalk hung in there and began to show a bit more green.  Ah-ha!  I wasn't hallucinating.

Some mornings, actually most mornings, I'd hopefully peer into the pot looking for signs of life and one blessed day I saw tiny fuzzy leaf buds: life was reappearing!  Thank you, thank you, thank you I whispered to the small plant.  I continued to nurture and nourish the tiny life.

Today, what had been just the merest possibility of new life, is robust and blooming.  Not only has the plant come back to life, it has more life than before: it's spreading new branches and bright green leaves cover almost half the space in the pot.  Not only is the bush life larger than I ever believed possible, the blooms are literally twice the size they were last year: they are tea roses and not mini-roses!

The disaster of the pot of mini-rose bushes occurred during a time of my living that was extremely challenging: a great many changes had happened suddenly and clustered together: a lot of what I had personally loved and found comforting was no longer a part of my life.  It would have been easy to throw away the pot of apparently dead plants as simply another 'tragedy.'

However, I have been taught all my life, and happen to believe, that my actions speak more loudly than any words I might jabber: if I believe God, who loves me and therefore desires the fullness of life for me, ceaselessly sends new life, then, no what outer circumstances might indicate, it is up to me to water whatever bit of green I might discover - even when it appears that I might be hallucinating !

Again I think of Isaiah who prophesied during a time when the promised Messiah appeared to be a cosmic joke.  Yet, there he was, watering the faith of the people saying: "See.  I am doing a new thing!  Now it springs up: do you not see it?  I a making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."  Isaiah 43:19

"It was You who created my inmost self,
and put me together in my mothers womb.
For all these mysteries I thank you:
for the wonder of myself, for the wonder of Your works."
(psalm 139:13-14)

When I first read this psalm - and it's my favorite - I was struck by the imagery of God deliberately creating 'my inmost self' and I was also grateful for the psalmist adding that this was a mystery.  The longer I lived with the words and imagery, the more I wondered, how do I discover from all the parts of 'my self' what might be the inmost self created by God?

The image chosen for today is of clay being shaped by a potter's hand because clay is not so mysterious to me. When my boys were young we spent many an afternoon with clay and play-dough.  I loved this activity so much I never minded the mess it created as we squished it,  rolled it into 'snakes' to coil into pots, pressed our hands into the lump and created an opening or thumped and pressed it flat so cookie cutters could be used to make shapes.

There is a wondrous feeling attached to playing with clay or play-dough.  Part of the feeling is creativity; I have this lump of possibility just crying to become something.  The other part of the wonder is a sense of power; I can do anything I want with this lump.

Our life, our 'self' is an awfully lot like clay: our potential; the gifts of this inmost being God created are the soft moist lump crying out to be used: to be kneaded, thumped and formed into something. The ability to shape this lump of self gives a sense of power which comes from what theologians refer to as free will or choice.

Free will is the gift God gave us in order that we might truly become artists in our living for creativity requires making choice. However, as most of us are well aware by mid-life, the power of free will and choice also creates mistakes, pain, and doubt. Sometimes by mid-life, the disappointment of our choices causes us to give up being artists and we settle for simply observing life or reducing our living to tasks and a kind of martyred duty.  Often without being aware, we have become passive, we wish for life rather than actively engaging the hope of faith.

Advent, the beginning of a new year of walking spiritually, trumpets hope with the call: 'wake up and begin anew: carry into birthing the life I have put in you."  To quote the prophet Isaiah "do not consider the things of old or the former things, I am doing a new thing; it springs forth, do you not perceiving it?"

Remember my experience seeing the Pieta and being aware that Michelangelo felt the story he was creating so completely that this love and passion was carved into the marble and I could feel the compassionate love still radiating centuries later? If Michelangelo, a human like myself could create a sculpture radiating love from marble, how much more powerful would be God as the sculpting hands of me? What might I become if I allow my living to become the partnership of potter and clay with God?,

Living from this choice requires faith.  Faith that the God who created me did so with love and continues to desire only what love does: that the fullness of life be revealed and lived. "Can I not do with you as this potter has done? says the Lord. Behold, like the clay in the potter's hand, so are you in My hand." (Jeremiah 18:6)

Thinking on this I am reminded of a quote attributed to Michelangelo, who when asked how he was able to create the magnificent forms he sculpted, seemed perplexed by the question and said simply, 'oh, the form is already there, I just remove the excess that hides it."  

God knows the inmost self he created and desires nothing more than my willingness to trust His loving hands to remove the excess baggage of my living. Today as I light my candle, I offer my willingness to believe this truth and ask that obstacles to it's grace be removed so the wonder created by you Oh God, may be revealed and I might live the story entrusted to me.

Sunday - third week in Advent

"It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness."

Yesterday when moving stuff off the table and onto a bookcase in order to create room for cookies to cool I made a discovery.  There in a stack of paperbacks was a book I took from my parent's home after they died: Three Minutes A Day.

At dinner each night when I was young either Mom or Day would read us a story from this book.  The stories were very short - literally three minutes to read aloud - and each story illustrated the motto of The Christophers: "it is better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness."  I loved hearing those stories and if the one read at dinner had been particularly good, after the table was cleared I would snatch the book, go to my room to read more stories about how each person can make a difference in the world.

The belief that each person "is unique and has a responsibility to help transform society" motivated Fr. Jim Keller, a Maryknoll priest to begin the movement he named The Christophers in 1946. He chose the name Christophers  from the Greek word for Christbearer: an individual who sought to apply the principles of The Gospel in the marketplace of everyday life.

Fr. Keller believed that each person living on earth has a job to do that can be done by no other.  To this end, The Christophers began spreading the news of The Gospel as lived out in individual lives through newsletters, radio and television broadcasts as well as the book of little stories published yearly, Three Minutes A Day.

Thumbing through my copy of the book I was struck by words from it's introduction: "in these pages are 365 reminders that God loves you completely and eternally and that He has a particular mission for you. Some pages may make you smile, some will inform you, but all will encourage you to reflect on your role in the larger scheme of things: you are essential to God's plan of salvation."

The intention of an Advent journey toward Christmas is very simple: we take time to reflect, not only on the joy of the Christ Child's anticipated birth, but on the other reality: I, and you, are within our living of life, essential to God's plan of salvation; we also have been given life in order to bring Light to the world.

Today we light the rose colored candle signifying joy: the new life is growing larger; the time of birth is coming near.  As the fire of flame shimmers before you, consider asking God for the courage to live as a single candle that casts light in the darkness of the world.

Saturday - second week in Advent

Yesterday I tried to wrap my mind around the deaths of twenty children and six adults murdered in an elementary school. But it was not possible for me to rationally make sense of what happened and so I turned to my two default behaviors: I baked cookies and prayed.

The prayer that ran through my heart and mind was one I learned at my family dinner table as we prayed The Memorare every night at dinner:

Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary,
that never was it known that anyone who fled to thy protection, 
implored thy help, or sought thine intercession was left unaided.
Inspired by this confidence, 
I fly unto thee, O Virgin of virgins, my mother; 
to thee do I come, before thee I stand, sinful and sorrowful. 
O Mother of the Word Incarnate, despise not my petitions, 
but in thy mercy hear and answer me.
Amen.

Over and over, these familiar words ran through my mind and heart yesterday. As I prayed, the awareness grew that I had complete confidence in Mary's ability to intercede and bring  her presence of comforting love and mercy to those in need.  Mary, mother of Jesus knows the pain of the people touched by this tragedy.

Mary knows the pain of the death of a beloved child for she received into her arms the body of her son when it was removed from the cross. Michelangelo's glorious sculpture depicts the love and sorrow of a mother holding the child she carried in her body, birthed into life and now holds in death.

When I was a child  living in Pennsylvania, the Pieta (pictured above) by Michelangelo was displayed at the New York World Fair.  Since we literally "ate" the Memorare daily, it made sense that my parents gathered up we children and took us to experience the magnificent work of art they believed embodied our daily prayer.  

Fifty years later I still remember standing transfixed on the moving sidewalk slowly taking us past the sculpture. It was not only the glorious beauty of the art that held me in absolute stillness: no, I remember feeling intense compassionate love; not simply within me for what I saw, but radiating from the sculpture.

The energy I felt was not fanciful, it is the energy of the artist who felt this story so intensely it became part of the marble he carved with his hands.  This is precisely the power of great art; the ability of a human being to create in such a way the rest of us are transported out of our little lives and glimpse the transcendent.

The circular design of the liturgical calendar is a form of art.  Over and over we travel through the stories of human beings and God interacting.  Each year we begin the stories exactly where we are today: in the season of Advent preparing for the birth of the Christ child.  Our journey of spiritual living during Advent has us ask ourselves once again:  Can I, like Mary and thousands of 'saints' after her, trust God enough to say 'Thy will be done unto me."  Am I willing to live in faith and joy trusting God as life unfolds? 

When I chose the image of the Pieta, the thought 'this is how the story of Advent ended' flashed through my mind, but I caught the words and said no, that's not true. 

The story of God Present With US did not end on the cross, nor at the Resurrection nor even the Ascension.  Jesus was the beginning of a story that never ends for each of us comes to earth carrying the love of God within our spirits. Our calling - our purpose for living - is not unlike Michelangelo: we have the ability to give form to this love through our living: through living our lives as prayerful-art we are able to make God's goodness real in our world today.

Earlier this week I stated that kindness is the action of love. My suggestion for this day in Advent as we continue our journey toward Christmas with sorrowful hearts aching with yesterday's news, is that you consider what action of  kindness you can do today.  An action of kindness concretely affirms I have heard God's invitation and yes, I am willing to birth God's love into the world.

I cannot birth this love as perfectly as Mary the Mother of Jesus.  But I am not asked to do that: I am asked if I am willing to birth God's light and love to the best of my flawed ability as me. I think this horrible tragedy is a reminder that our answer is especially important right now.

The favor of your response is requested ...please choose:

can't - already betrothed
nope - clothes dirty and shabby
unable - no room on the schedule
must decline - too old
no - possibly you've sent this to wrong person
sorry - don't think I'd fit in
hmmmm - interesting idea

I've always wondered if other women said no before Mary said yes. I've also wondered how many fishermen looked at Jesus requesting they leave their boats to follow him, and  instead shook their heads and walked back to their work.

I've wondered if the rich young man who sadly walked away when Jesus told him what was needed in order to enter the Kingdom, ever came back and said he was ready. I've wondered about people standing on the edge of the crowds where Jesus was teaching; those who really wanted to enter into the dialogue but instead remained on the fringe and then went home because they just couldn't picture themselves living a new kind of life.

We adults who have lived a few decades know absolutely that love is dangerous. Love brings new life. New life is wild and untamed. Say yes to love with your heart, and your life is changed.  Bring a new baby into your life - human or Spirit variety - and your carefully constructed routines (of mind and body) will be thrown into disarray.

Disarray.  I know first hand the disarray of love and new life. Recently I began attending daily Mass.  I won't go into the whole long story as to how I actually walked through the door of the little adoration chapel but I can share that if you acquire the habit of having coffee each morning with God, you are making yourself available to all kinds of wild ideas.

My first response to the invitation from God to expand my life with a different (new) experience of love by going to Mass was incredulity 'you have got to be kidding me! I'm perfectly happy with us having coffee each morning as the sun rises.'  To shorten the story here I will just say that if you read the possible responses to an RSVP at the beginning of this post you will know the journey I traveled.  Yep, I know each response personally as I've said each response.

However, I did keep showing up each day for coffee and conversation; sometimes referred to as prayer, and so did the Spirit and love of God.  And I kept being nudged down the road of responding until one morning I said, 'hmmmmmm - might be an interesting experience' and I felt the shell of defenses crack open. This, 'hmmmm' seedling of new life grew silently until one day I got dressed and said, 'okay, I'll give your idea a try.'  Which is my beginning step toward; 'let it be done unto me according to Thy will.'

Turns out that despite my incredulity,misgivings and downright stubbornness of trying to cling to old ideas, the experience of spending thirty minutes each morning in Mass has brought new life to my being in ways I could never have foreseen.  Which of course, is exactly how the gift of love behaves: wild spirals of untamed energy of Life.

I'll close with the words of Madeline L'Engle which I shared in the first Advent post: "This is the season where love blooms bright and wild.  Had Mary been full of reason, there'd have been no room for the child." Letting go of our old ideas and making room for love is what the journey of Advent is all about.

The people of God waited a long, long time for the birth of the Messiah; Advent - the time of awaiting and preparing for the coming - lasted hundreds of years rather than our four weeks.  During those long, long passages of time, people we now call Prophets appeared now and again with words of hope and encouragement that delivered a simple message: God has not forgotten his promise and is with you as you walk in faith.

A favorite of these prophet is Ezekiel and I was thinking of a promises he proclaimed: "I will give you a new heart and put a new Spirit in you: I will removed from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh."  Ez:36:26

Well, that's a prophecy that sounds rather extreme: heart of stone becoming heart of flesh!  Yet one reason I love this passage is I have experienced it's promise personally - there was a time in my life when my heart was indeed inflexible with disappointments and resentments, where bitterness and cynicism caused bouts of despair and rage.  I was very unhappy living with a heart that was in part, rigid and hard.

What changed my life was really very simple action.  At one of my lowest points of living I was given the instruction to find some space in my day for stillness and quiet.  Because of a lot of factors, the only regular space I was able to create was to set the alarm for 30 minutes earlier than normal and then sit on the patio in the stillness and quiet of a new day, sipping my coffee and watching as light crept through the darkness of night.

What began as following an instruction twenty-five years ago became a practice that remains the foundation of my spiritual life.  Why do I refer to sipping coffee in the stillness of morning while the sun rises, a spiritual practice? The picture I chose for this post is of water flowing over rocks illustrates the answer to this question: water flowing regularly over hard rock wears away edges and slowly but irrevocably smooths and reforms the rock.

Sitting in my chair as light crept through darkness each morning, the awareness of life as gift slowly took form in my heart.  Unbeknownst to me at the time, I was putting myself in the position of allowing God's grace to flow around me and through me: slowly but surely, not only did my heart begin to soften, but my eyes began to perceive the day differently: I was being gifted with both eyes of wonder and a heart of flesh.

My mother taught me that a gift has not truly been received until acknowledgment with thank you is given (preferably in the form of handwriting) and I am deeply grateful for this basic lesson of living. As my awareness of life as gift came alive in my eyes and heart, I knew it was necessary to give thanks: 'thank you for today; for the life you have given me; for the people you surround me with; thank you for providing all I need in this day." Those were the words of prayer that sprang from my heart all those decades ago - words I still begin my day saying.

Advent is the season calling us to begin anew as we walk in faith.  Advent reminds us that whether the previous year was difficult with trials and tribulations or a relatively easy span of time, God's grace flows ceaselessly and we have the opportunity to receive love with a new heart each day. God though is not only gracious, God is very polite: it is up to us as to whether or not we will choose to act in a way as to receive the grace of love being offered.

Thinking on new beginnings I am reminded of another prophet of Advent, Isaiah. "Do not consider the former things or consider the things of old.  I am about to do a new thing: now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?"   May you have eyes of wonder to perceive new life growing and softening your heart.

Wednesday - second week in Advent

"The glory of God shone round them, and the Spirit of God was upon them."

Those words wandered through my mind and heart very early this morning as I sat on my balcony and gazed  at the sky.  I am at a resort in Sedona for my brother's wedding and being so far away from the light pollution of the city, the glory of multitudes of pinpricks of light shining through deep darkness is astonishing - in fact, my view from the balcony was remarkably similar to this photograph.

The beauty of Sedona is stunning, so unusual are the rock formations striated with all shades of red it is difficult to take in the expansiveness of the beauty. Add the experience of an unpolluted early morning sky where the expanse of both darkness and piercings of light allowed a glimpse of infinity of glory and, to it was not easy to remain completely present. Besides, 5:30 in the morning in the high desert is very cold so I found myself wandering between glory and warm comfort.

It is not easy for we humans to remain long with glory.  Glory is extreme joy - so overwhelming, and generally so unexpected, that our tendency is to retreat as the experience penetrates our shell of normalcy.

I laughed when I realized that scripture backed up my words about how we humans tend to react to God gifting us with glory. I came indoors to write this post and began by looking up where in scripture the words I heard in my mind and heart are located, When I discovered the scripture story they came from I was tickled by the graciousness of God.

The gospel of Luke 2:8 tells us 'there were shepherds in the field keeping watch over their flocks. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of God shone round them and the Spirit of God came upon them.'  Most of us are very familiar with this part of the nativity narrative as we've not only heard it over and over, many of us have dressed as shepherds for the Christmas play and settled the figurines of shepherds with Mary and Joseph in the stable we set up on a table in our home.

I don't know about you, but I've heard this story for so long that if asked to describe the shepherd's role in the story I'd probably say: 'an angel appeared telling of Jesus' birth in Bethlehem and they were so excited they left their flocks and went to see the newly born Christ child.'  My remembered version however leaves out one very important piece of how we humans tend to react to experiencing the glory of God.

"And they were terrified."

Those are the words describing the shepherds experience of the glory of God shining around them in the form of angels.  Terror - the shepherds were frightened by the presence of God.  I love that when read carefully, scripture very much acknowledges human response: in real life we human beings do not tend to enjoy experiences that blindside our preconceived ideas and take us out of our comfort zone of how - we believe - life is supposed to behave.

"How can this be?"  When I began these Advent reflections several days ago I stated my belief that 'how can this be?' is a prayer of faith.  "How can this be?" means I am aware something unusual has happened within my living.  "How can this be?" may keep me present to my experience long enough to hear the next words of the story:

"But the angel said to them, 'do not be afraid.  I bring you news of great joy ...'

Earlier in this post I told you I laughed at the graciousness of God when I discovered the where the words I heard in my heart early this morning came from.  I laughed because driving up here yesterday I was unsure how in the midst of all the wedding activities and being in a strange environment I would manage to find the space and inner quiet I need to write these posts.  Aware of my thoughts, I said to God, 'if you want me to do the post then I'll leave the how up to you.'

God is gracious.  When I awakened a bit after 5 am today I was not entirely believing in God's graciousness as I felt the nudge to leave the warmth of bed and room and go outside where it was 20 degrees. Yet,if I had given in to the temptation to remain comfortable I would not have seen the unusual spectacle of the stars nor would I have heard the words springing unbidden from my mind and heart. If I had remained comfortable I would have missed God's response to my request.

May you be blessed with the awareness of God's graciousness to you and your life today.

Tuesday - second week in Advent

For years and years I taught Sunday School and one of my go-to activities during Advent was to have the children prepare the manger.  I kept a box of cut strips of paper near the door and when each child arrived they knew to take a few of these strips and on to write an act of kindness they had done the previous week on each.

Children take such activities very seriously and as they saw their acts of kindness begin to cover the bottom of the box and slowly add cushioning for the Christ child, they began to think harder and harder about what they could do to increase the 'straw' in the manger.

Each week before we began the lesson we would take a few minutes and share what acts of kindness could be done in the coming week: doing a chore without being asked, being 'nice' to a sibling, helping someone who needed assistance, giving another person a smile, letting someone go ahead of them in line, sharing a snack.  Like all good brainstorming, the more they shared the more ideas came about and each Sunday more pieces of straw were added to the manger.

Kindness is the action of love. Since it's the nature of love to expand and grow, this truth also applies to the actions of love: our awareness of love as a source of living grows in proportion to our ability to share it with others.  The children in my classroom saw this truth become real as the once empty manger gradually filled with the cushioning of small acts of kindness embodied on bits of paper straw.

God sent the long awaited Messiah into the world as a baby born in poor surroundings - an animal's manger in an unused stall - to ordinary people. Many, many people who had been waiting for the Messiah completely missed the truth of his arrival because they were expecting someone royal with the external trappings of power.  Instead of external power and might, they were given instead the greatest power that exists - a human being who lived completely from and with the love of God.

Jesus acknowledged his reason for being sent to live on earth in human form (like each of us) when he said to his disciples, "I give you but one command: love one another as I have loved you."  His disciples heard his words and to the best of their ability learned how, in the imperfect way of we humans, to live as Jesus showed them.  And the world was changed.

How is the world changed by love?  Exactly as the children learned as they provided cushioning in the manger: one act of kindness at a time.

Monday - Second week of Advent

Being hospitable to new life is wondrous AND uncomfortable.  I learned this truth quite personally when carrying three new souls in my body and birthing each into life.  Each pregnancy was an awe-struck awareness that a new Being would come into the world through me, as well as the disconcerting and uncomfortable experiences of morning sickness, ridiculous fatigue, swollen feet and a body stretching and expanding in unbelievable increment as the life within me grew larger and my internal organs were pushed and moved out of the normal places.  The delight of carrying new life was sometimes in serious conflict with the vessel used for it's sustenance and growth.

A spiritual experience of carrying new life is very similar to the experiences of pregnancy: there are times of astonishing wonder as well as periodically feeling terribly uncomfortable and a bit scared of what is happening. The initial delight of discovering that 'God has found favor with you' and granted a glimpse of new life will also cause serious conflict with your older and more familiar ways of living. Balancing delight and conflict - and there is nothing quite like new life and love to make both of those equally real - means discovering ways of sustaining and nurturing the gift we have been given.

When I was pregnant I discovered the sustaining act of deliberately finding times of being present only to the new life growing within me. Sitting or lying very still I would bring my awareness to the life rolling around in my belly: I would feel the kicks and soft swimming motion of the baby.  As I focused on the movements of this life, the wonder and mystery of this astonishing gift within me would fill my consciousness and the discomfort and fears of what was happening in other aspects of my living would fade into the background.

Taking time out of the busyness of ordinary living in order to be present to God is an ancient spiritual practice for it is within quiet and stillness that we are most likely to become aware of the small flutters of the Spirit of God's love.

Love is a gift that asks for response as our response indicates we have received what has been given. Meister Eckhart, a mystic who lived in the 14th century summed up very simply how essential our response to accepting this gift of life is: "if the only prayer you ever pray is 'thank you', that is enough."

Our spiritual journey of Advent includes the wreath with candles and the intention to set aside a bit of time each day to remind ourselves that God is not only present to all of life, God is present to me personally.  The act of lighting the candles (2 this week) and sitting quietly watching the flames flicker and glow is a way to affirm that God's love is indeed real and alive. "Thank you" is a simple and concrete way of affirming this blessing.

Sunday - Second week in Advent

"Holiness is cosmic hospitality."  (Matthew Fox)

Often I write down thoughts of other people from books or articles because they strike me with a whack on the side of my head or a thud into my heart.  As a result of this hobby of scribbling words that confuse me, affirm an idea, whack me or land with a thud, I have hundreds of bits of paper floating around my house. Organizing these bits of paper has been an utter failure but one treasure in my periodic attempts is that I find thoughts I have forgotten and I get whacked or thudded all over again.

Matthew Fox's four little words whacked my head as I wondered, 'how - and why - does hospitality create holiness?' When I am in doubt about meaning, I generally pull out my dictionary and look up words.  I love dictionaries and one reason is because definitions in a dictionary are impervious to culture-babble. I picture the person writing definitions as someone who would respond to 'but I thought it meant', with a dignified sniff saying, "I don't care how you mean it, this is the correct meaning.'

The definition of hospitality offers clarity to Fox's words: hospitality is a friendly and generous reception of guests or strangers. Ah-ha! Mary was receptive to the angel as well as the message of the angel.  Joseph was receptive enough to Mary's story so that he was able to receive his own message within a dream.  Elizabeth was receptive to conceiving new life even though that was thought impossible.  The shepherds left their fields even though shepherds never leave their sheep because they were receptive to carrying a message given by angels. An inn keeper whose inn was full-up was receptive to the idea of sharing an unused stall in his barn despite knowing that offering an animal stall was not up to the standards of an inn keeper.

Each act of receptivity in the Christmas story is about willingness to move out of our status quo and open our mind or heart to strangers: unfamiliar angels, unfamiliar ideas, unfamiliar ideas of who I am and unfamiliar answers to problems.  "Unfamiliar" according to my pal the dictionary is that which we are unaccustomed to: it is not comfortable to our normal way of thinking or behaving ....and is therefore brand new.  New like the baby born into the world that long ago day in Bethlehem.

Today, as we continue to preparing to receive God's love in a new way, we  light the second candle on the wreath.  You might consider the flame as your willingness to entertain strangers; a willingness to open the door of your heart to someone or some idea that is quite unfamiliar to your normal way of thinking and behaving.

Saturday - First week of Advent

I wonder how many angels have come into my life and I've been oblivious to their appearance. Or how often I've vaguely been aware of an unexpected presence but was scared by the message and so like Mary at the beginning of the story, I thought 'how can this be?' and then unlike Mary, I discounted my experience.

The Gospel of Luke tells the story this way: the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary saying, "hail favored one, the Lord is with you."  The story then recounts, "she was troubled at this statement and kept pondering what this might be."  Despite the disruption to her quiet moment of prayer by an angel, Mary kept pondering - she stayed with the experience by considering; thinking reflectively and in this way, became hospitable to a completely unexpected - and slightly scary - experience.

Being hospitable to interruptions of my expectations of what is proper and acceptable to who I am and how I live from that knowledge, is not easy.  I don't know about you but I get a lot of security and comfort from my routines of living, both the external routines: my daily habits moving me through my day as well as my internal routines of thoughts and expectations: what I believe and therefore how I expect myself and life to behave. Major disruptions to either my habits of behaving or my habits of thinking tend to make me cranky.

Crankiness is not a hospitable attitude.  Crankiness makes it really difficult to see angels and even more difficult to hear with one's heart the message of the angel. Becoming aware of my own crankiness at even wonderful disruptions to my preconceived ideas of how life should operate is why today I wonder: how many angels have I missed welcoming to my life?

How often have I brushed away the gift God offered me by a cranky attitude of 'how can this be?'  Not Mary's wondering and reflective 'how can this be?"  No, I confess to being aware that more than once in my life I've been Zechariah and like him, responded to God's unexpected blessing with "oh, that is ridiculous!  What kind of fool do you think I am to believe you are offering new life to me?  Harumph! Go away!"

The story of Jesus coming into the world as Emmanuel - God with us - is a story of unfathomable love: the greatest blessing given to earth and we human earthlings.  Love however by very nature expands life and expansion is disruptive: it breaks into what was and moves the pieces around and out of place.

Every persons life in the Nativity narrative was seriously disrupted and turned upside down, not by disaster and not by tragedy but by love so unexpected and profound that their life changed completely. 

We who hear this story AGAIN this season know the entire plot and ending and so we tend to discount the disruption of life the people who lived it experienced as they said 'yes' and began a story where 'God has found favor' with them - personally - and therefore gave each person new life.

Mary, Joseph, Elizabeth, Zechariah and all the others of this story did not know how the story of their yes would unfold.  And neither do you or I know how a yes to God's unexpected blessing will unfold.  All we can do is as they did: say yes and trust the truth of the closing words of Angel Gabriel, "nothing will be impossible with God."

As you light your candle today you may consider saying: "yes, I am open to angels bringing unexpected blessing and love to my life."