one step
one prayer
one kindness
one thank you
one smile
one scarlet and golden leaf
“April Prayer” by Stuart Kestenbaum, from Prayers & Run-On Sentences
Another way of counting Advent days is the use of an Advent wreath with a candle to light and add each Sunday during Advent. For our Advent candles at home, we do not use the same arrangement every year, and often do not use traditional colors (3 purple, 1 pink, and a white candle for the center candle, the Christ candle). I use the same candles from the year before when possible. Here, the first candle, lit last Sunday, burns brightly – the candle of Hope. Of course the candles lit in the beginning burn down the furthest, If all the candles were new, all of them would be the same height in the beginning. This candle may be the tallest now, but will wind up being the shortest in the last week of Advent.
I recently learned about a little known Advent tradition of using an Advent log, instead of a wreath. It has a candle hole for each day of Advent, plus one for Christmas day. Here is a poem that refers to this lovely tradition:
Prayer at the Advent Log
The small lights steady
against the dark
Your flame is touching ours.
Today is the fifth day.
It is a safe fire,
the candles still tall
against the brittle wood
of the birch, the air
damp and chill.
But the days will draw us
inexorably toward
Your celebration.
And again we’ll stand
in the crackling air,
the first day’s flames
licking the log
with their shortened lives,
the length of it threatened
by Your fire,
Your love dazzling our eyes,
And O Christ,
Your love
searing our nakedness.
~Jean Janzen as quoted in A Widening Light, edited by Luci Shaw.
This will be a week of seeing night skies shot through with neon sprays of light accompanied by gasps and ahs as dramatic firework displays entertain crowds while smaller scale backyard pyrotechnics fizzle and pop.
I love better, bursts of bloom from our garden
crepe myrtle trees heavy with crinkly scarlet clusters
lifted against snowy clouds
free-floating in cerulean sky
I love better,stars blazing
in the heart of a morning glory
Too, the tall spires of indigo salvia,
fragrance from tiny white spears of sweet almond
seed fronds of native grasses waving and dancing
afternoon breezes coaxing music from wind chimes
celebration
Ideally, a human life should be a constant pilgrimage of discovery. The most exciting discoveries happen at the frontiers. When you come to know something new, you come closer to yourself and to the world. Discovery enlarges and refines your sensibility. When you discover something, you transfigure some of the forsakenness of the world.—John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes: Celtic Reflections on Our Yearning to Belong
discovery is not always finding
a thing never before found,
coming to know the unknown
I loved the little gardenia bush
my Mother planted
snuggled against the screened porch
struggling to survive East Texas winters
when blooms came,
stars hanging on dark green sky
fragrance reaching
all the way to the porch swing
I picked one to float in a glass bowl
this fragrance is not new to me
nor the ivory petals strange
held brushing my nose
but strangely fresh joy is found
when I place this gardenia
in my granddaughter’s palm
hear her breath of delight
as she cradles it
this thing I have known for 70 years
is new and exciting
Mary Ann, February 6, 2014
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
where we all come in from the cold.
Drawn by warmth and promise,
cheered in flickering light,
we get closer to the flame
and each other.
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
Where we gather
in anticipation
of Gift and Giver,
basking around a campfire
of retold story.
Stoking to keep it hotly burning.
Christmas is a place, like my heart,
where the Mary-me receives once again
astonishing news and says yes
to giving birth and being born,
to delivering and being delivered,
to remembering.
Mary Ann Parker 2011
previously posted in December 2011