Divine Interruption

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One of the ways our family walks the Advent path is with an Advent calendar. This is not like a desk calendar with pages.  We have a number of different ways of counting the days.  One of the first we used when our boys were very small was by reading a story from a Little Golden Book every night. The book came with its own cardboard triptych, a fold out replica of Bethlehem, with shuttered windows that could be opened to reveal a symbol inside. Our children loved opening the tiny windows and first listening, then reading the part of the story the symbol represented.  One of our sons and his wife gave us one that is a box, a stack of small drawers that can be opened each day.

Today is the 4th day of Advent, and this is the Advent “keeper” or calendar I used this morning during my quiet time. It is a little A frame shape box with hinged sides that fold shut and latch.  There are tiny hooks for small figures to attach representing a different character in the nativity story for each day.  When I look at these 4 figures, it seems they are all shepherds, young shepherd girls and boys. As I scattered the remaining figures, thinking of the days ahead, I thought how these had lives that were tremendously interrupted by the story of Christ’s coming – the shepherds, most certainly Mary and Joseph, and even the animals who shared their stall (there are cows and sheep to hang on hooks, too) – all were divinely interrupted and all had lives were changed forever in ways they previously could never have imagined..I wonder if I am open to such interruption, to being unsettled..  Dietrich Bonhoeffer said “We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God.”  I

“Lord, the calendar calls for Christmas.  We have traveled this way before.During this Advent season we would see what we have never seen before, accept what we have refused to think, and hear what we understand. Be with us in our goings that we may meet you in your coming…”  ~  The Unsettling Season, by Donald J. Shelby

 

Recollect

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On my piano rests a book given to me by my son years ago. Every year around the middle of November, I take the book from its place on a bookshelf and place it again on the piano so that we can enjoy hearing and singing this music again.  It is a collection of Christmas music from around the world, many very old traditional carols. I do not form a new collection; I remember this very good one and bring it close to me so that I can use it, savoring the words and melodies.

This is a good picture of the word recollect for me.  My grandparents used that word, pronouncing it “reck-o-lect,”  as remembering.  But the wider meaning is one of gathering back, of bring back to awareness, to assemble again something that is scattered.

It is this sense of gathering back that I am given as Advent unfolds. As I choose to open my music book once more, I am practicing one part of this remembrance.

Story Telling

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gray and grateful, I am

glad to be grandmother

holding this child who continues my story

she sleeps in my arms

as if melted and poured out,

I am melted and poured out too

 

Nothing in my life prepared me for how being a grandmother would change me.  I should have suspected, remembering the molding and mentoring of my own grandmother and seeing the love and tenderness my mother gave with abandon to my sons when she became a grandmother.  Our first granddaughter came to us when she was three, when our oldest son brought her and her mother to meet us for the first time. I enjoyed fussing over her, and when my son married the two of them, was tickled when she began calling me my Grandmother name, Granmary, instead of Mary Ann. I jumped into being a grandmother without a second thought,love, tea parties and all.  And when her sister Skye was born.12 years ago, I was ready and waiting to be crazy about this baby,  cherished from the moment of the announcement of her conception. I kept a journal during the time we waited for her birth, a practice which I continued 9 years ago with Madelyn, 6 years ago with Jordann, and this year with Nora! This is something I now realize helped me tell family story to them and to welcome them into that story. As they grow and interact with me, I have many exciting opportunities to add to our together stories!

Every grandchild that is born is another leap of heart and soul for me, each one unique.  I am changed forever in my love for them and my joy in them.  And I am increasingly aware of the importance of our story and the need to tell it.  It is another Mary Oliver moment: “Pay attention, be astonished, and tell about it.”

“My story is important not because it is mine, God knows, but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours.

Maybe nothing is more important than that we keep track, you and I, of these stories of who we are and where we have come from and the people we have met along the way because it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity, as I have long believed and often said, that God makes himself known to each of us most powerfully and personally.

If this is true, it means that to lose track of our stories is to be profoundly impoverished not only humanly but also spiritually. The God of biblical faith is a God who started history going in the first place. He is also a God who moment by moment, day by day continues to act in history always, which means both the history that gets written down in the New York Times and the San Francisco Chronicle and at the same time my history and your history, which for the most don’t get written down anywhere except in the few lines that may be allotted to us some day on the obituary page.

The Exodus, the Covenant, the entry into the Promised Land—such mighty acts of God as these appear in Scripture, but no less mighty are the acts of God as they appear in our own lives.”    Frederick Buechner

 

Clinging

hear November whisper and sing

rain drops and ball moss cling

morning light holds onto night

a few brown leaves hang on tight

I linger like these  and pray

reluctant to busy my day

yet still, yet silent

clinging

 

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October Lumosity

 

 

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scarlet leaf glowing in morning light


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dew drops glistening on a pansy petal

IMG_1885cranberry glass plate scatters sunset rays

 

“Pay attention

be astonished

tell about it.”

Mary Oliver

Nourishment

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Milkweed and Lantana in our garden have continued to thrive and bloom in our South Texas heat.  I am grateful for the splashes of color from their small flowers.  But I am more grateful that they provide nectar for these giant swallowtail butterflies.  I understand that this butterfly will feed only from these plants, and afterward will find my Meyer lemon tree where they will lay their eggs.  These, of course hatch into  caterpillars with voracious appetites for citrus leaves, and then form their chrysalis where they become these lovely winged creatures. The cycle never ceases to amaze me.  I am blessed by this beauty.

Without stretching the comparison too far, I consider how, given the choices I have for the care and feeding of my soul, I choose that which nourishes me in the best ways for growing and changing.  I want to be more intentional in my choices of entertainment, the books I read,the art and music I enjoy,  the thoughts with which I fill my mind.

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Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies.”

Philippians 4:8   The Message 

On the Path

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this difficult thing that has come

as yet unnamed

stumbling block or stepping stone?

obstacle or opportunity?

barricade or bridge?

praying to see and to hear

the answer comes clear

choose

Don’t Wait to Celebrate

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tissue paper ruffles

unwrap scarlet star

releasing arc of fireworks

today alone is mine

IMG_0724folded petals crumple

fireworks fade into the night

don’t wait to celebrate

 

Please see a related post from last year:  www.stonesandfeathers.wordpress.com/2013/07/27/i-have-this-day/

 

Silence

IMG_0585One of the disciplines that is hard to achieve in our bustling, hurrying, sound filled lives is that of silence. But if we do not know how to practice silence, if we do not make space for it, we may miss the time we are offered the chance to give that gift to one who needs us to listen. I love the silence of early morning – sitting with my cup of coffee as darkness opens to soft light. It is as if I am stilled in the lap of God, resting in the dawn of a new day’s hope.

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Talking always comes much easier than listening, but it is in silence that I can tune my ears and learn what it means to really hear. In my recent reading, I found the words from Rachel Naomi Remen as well as the poetry by John Fox. Both speak to the value of learning silence and deeply listening.

“Perhaps the most important thing we bring to another person is the silence in us, not the sort of silence that is filled with unspoken criticism or hard withdrawal. The sort of silence that is a place of refuge, of rest, of acceptance of someone as they are. We are all hungry for this other silence. It is hard to find. In its presence we can remember something beyond the moment, a strength on which to build a life. Silence is a place of great power and healing.”

~ Rachel Naomi Remen,

 

When someone deeply listens to you
it is like holding out a dented cup
you’ve had since childhood
and watching it fill up with
cold, fresh water.WWhen someone deeply listens to you
ithen it balances on top of the brim,
you are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin,
you are loved.

When someone deeply listens to you
the room where you stay
starts a new life
and the place where you wrote
your first poem
begins to glow in your mind’s eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered.

When someone deeply listens to you
your barefeet are on the earth
and a beloved land that seemed distant
is now at home within you.

~ John Fox

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