Crossing the Threshold into the New Year

It's almost here. We made it, and the new year is almost here. 

We stand on the threshold ready to enter a new year, and that means leaving the old year behind. Many, perhaps most of us, are more than eager to say goodbye to 2020. We had no idea what the year would bring, but here's the deal. We never know what the new year will bring. It is always uncertain, unknown.

Now is the perfect time--during these last days of December and first days of January--to pause and reflect on the lessons learned and maybe even open to the gifts gained during the last months. 

           There are times when everything seems easy, and
           times when it all seems impossibly hard. To make
           that manageable, we just have to remember that our
           present will one day become a past, and our future
              will be our present. We know that because it's happened
           before. The things we put behind us will often come around
                again. The things that trouble us now will one day be past

           history. Each time we endure the cycle, we ratchet up a notch. 

           We learn from the last time around, and we do a few things 

           better this time, we develop tricks of the mind to see us through.

           This is how progress is made.
                                Wintering, The Power of Rest and Retreat in
                                Difficult Times by Katherine May, p. 239

Therefore, I invite you to pull up a chair into the silence and have a closing conversation with 2020. Get out your journal. Perhaps start a new one. Be with a trusted friend, loved one, or your spiritual director --someone who will listen and help you sort through and uncover what you most need to know, in order to move forward into the new year. 

Here are some key questions to consider or statements to complete as you consider the past year:

1.  When I think about the past year, I...

2.   The most challenging part of 2020 for me was.... 

3.   What/who saved my life in the last year? What worked for me in the past year?

4.    Where did I notice the movement of God in my life? And how did I grow because of my awareness of God's presence?

5.    Who were the wise ones, my companions, in my life and what did they reveal to me?

6.   In what ways was I a wise one to someone else?    

7.    What spiritual practices supported me during the year? 

8.    What surprised me about my response to the challenge of the year? 

I read somewhere that each of the first twelve days in January represents one month of the coming year. In other words the first day stands for January, the second for February, and so on. And, of course, we are still in the Christmas season as we move towards Epiphany and the arrival of the Wise Men (I prefer to think there were Wise Women, too). In both cases there is an invitation to think about what we offer the new year, what we bring into the new year.

What is the gold, frankincense, and myrrh you carry with you?

How can I strengthen my relationship with the Holy One? What spiritual practices could enhance that relationship? 

What calls to me? 

What is at the heart of my new year's prayer?

You may notice that I have not used the word "resolutions." You may have specific steps in mind to improve the quality of your life, and I wish you good luck with those, but instead, envision your intentions. I love these suggestions from Elle Harris.

                            Look for opportunity.

                            Chase kindness.

                            Discover something new.

                            Let go of something.

                                        Walk with hope.

                            Fall into wonder.  

What a wonderful year 2021 could be, no matter what we face, if we open ourselves to God's enfolding love as we live into these intentions.

                Faithful Companion, in this new year I pray:
                        to live deeply, with purpose,
                        to live wisely, with humility,
                        to live lovingly, with fidelity,
                        to live gratefully, with generosity,
                        to live freely, with detachment,
                        to live justly, with compassion,
                        to live mindfully, with awareness,
                        to live fully, with enthusiasm.
                Help me to hold this vision and to daily renew it in
                my heart, becoming ever more one with you,
                my truest Self.
                                            Joyce Rupp

An Invitation

What are your thoughts as you stand on the threshold of the new year? I would love to know.

NOTE: I have prepared a very simple guide, "Crossing the Threshold into the New Year." If you would like a PDF, send me an email, nagneberg48@gmail.com and I will forward to you. 

Watch for my first post in the new year when I list my favorite books of 2020. 

                            Happy New Year!

   

 

 

 

Be Still and Know That I am God.

On Saturdays this month of December my husband 
and I have left our urban home and driven to small towns and on country roads, taking a different direction each week. The change of scenery, the change of pace, has been life-giving for us. 

Unlike the days of moving methodically to complete various Christmas tasks, the day has no agenda, no specific destination. We roam. We talk some, but not lots, and are content with each other's presence.

I know I need the spaciousness of the harvested fields, of the expanse where sky meets land somewhere in the distance. I need the simplicity of the farmhouses and the faded red of the barns. The leafless branches sugared with snow and the fields lightly powdered in white against the unbroken grey sky. It was a one hawk, one eagle day. Few cars. Fewer people, except for the two farmers we saw urging a calf, who had broken free, back where she belonged. 

I suppose we could have turned on the radio to Christmas music, but  silence was enough. I replayed the chants from the Wednesday night Advent service in my head, even humming just a bit. I smiled seeing Christmas decorations on front lawns--some more tasteful than others, in my judging mind, but all reminders of the love we have for this time of year. 

"Ok, to head home?" my husband asks, and yes, I am ready. The drive has fulfilled its purpose. I feel balanced and calm once again.

I feel ready to meet my promise to myself: To enter the coming days in stillness, with silence. To create a sanctuary in my heart, big enough for all who need it. 

I whisper to myself one of my favorite lines from scripture, Psalm 46: 10.

            Be still and know that I am God. 

And I move deeper into that calm and peace.

            Be still and know that I am God.
            Be still and know that I am.
            Be still and know.
            Be still.
            Be.
            Be still.
            Be still and know.
            Be still and know that I am.
            Be still and know that I am God.
            Amen.

An Invitation
What do you need for the coming days? I would love to know. 

        

 

A December Check-In

 Here we are in mid-December. 

In previous years, seeing December 15th on my calendar would have caused me to panic. The list of tasks to complete before Christmas seemed daunting--presents still to buy and wrap and get into the mail; boxes of cards to address, sign, and add personal notes, plans to bake many loaves of cherry walnut bread and deliver to neighbors and others. At the same time days were filled with events, church services,  concerts, service projects, and gatherings with friends and family. 

The list was long, but for the most part I loved the doing. I have never been a Christmas grouch, but I have taken my role as a Christmas elf seriously and worked deliberately through the list--checking it twice at least. Most years, however, I maintained space for silence in those busy days. I reflected on the wonder and opened to the gifts of the sacred season. I treasured Advent.

I knew this year would be different. Most of our shopping was done online and sent directly to the receiver. No in-house entertaining is on the calendar, and concerts and church services are enjoyed via ZOOM. Some things remain the same: I still have unopened boxes of Christmas cards, but the list of recipients is much longer than previous years, and I have all the ingredients waiting for many more batches of cherry walnut bread. 

More importantly, what's different this year is what is missing. Our son and daughter-in-love won't be arriving from Cleveland for the holidays. We won't go out for an elegant dinner Christmas Eve with our forever friends before going to the candlelight service at church. And Christmas Day won't be spent with our kids and grandkids. And my father, who died in May, won't be with us. Last year we wondered, "Would this be Dad's last Christmas?" and it was. 

I have given myself permission to be sad, to acknowledge the losses, the differences from previous years, but I also appreciate what remains the same--the wonder, the gift we Christians wait for in the birth of the child. What remains the same is the hope for peace and justice, and the desire to create that in the world. Even in the presence of my own loss and the profound losses experienced by so many, I treasure Advent this year. Perhaps more than any other year. 

And so, I take a deep breath, and rest in the invitations of these days.

                            Blessed are you
                            in whom 
                            the light lives,
                            in whom
                            the brightness blazes--
                            your heart
                            a chapel,
                            an altar where
                            in the deepest night
                            can be seen 
                            the fire that
                            shines forth in you
                            in accountable faith, 
                            in stubborn hope,
                            in love that illumines
                            every broken thing
                            it finds.
                                        Jan Richardson

An Invitation
How is this December different for you, but what is the same? I would love to know. 

 

The Waiting Room: Waiting During Advent and a Pandemic

Haven't we waited long enough? 

We know when Advent ends. On Christmas Eve, but what about the pandemic? That's not ending any time soon.

Waiting is not easy, and we are in for a long wait, so get comfortable in the Waiting Room.

Perhaps it may be helpful to remember other times when you have waited:

For a child to be born or adopted. Or to become pregnant.
For test results--medical or academic.
For a house to sell or to get a new job.
For the appearance of the love of your life. 
For vacation. For graduation. For the end of the work week.
For spring to come after a long winter or for the night hours to ease into daylight.
For a hoped for email or check to arrive.
For inspiration.

For justice. For peace.
For change, almost any kind of change.

I invite you to make your own Waiting Room list. 

When I yearned for a time of waiting to end, my father often said, "Your day will come." I was often irritated by that response and thought, "When? How? Why is it taking so long and what will happen in the meantime? Will it come in time? "

What "Your day will come" implies is that my time is not God's time and God's time is not my time, and I might as well learn how to wait. In fact, what if waiting could be a spiritual practice?

Seven Spiritual Gifts of Waiting by Holly Whitcomb urges us to change our perspective from waiting as something to be endured to waiting as a gift. Instead of challenges to be met, Whitcomb offers the following as gifts for our spiritual lives:

                                Patience
                                Loss of Control
                                Living in the Present
                                Compassion
                                Gratitude
                                Humility
                                Trust in God

Such a great list, I think to myself. Yes, I want to be more patient and compassionate. I want to live with gratitude and humility. And I know how much easier and more life-giving it would be, if I could give up control, live more in the present, and yes, trust in God. 

Is that even possible? Of course, for as as the angel said to Mary,

            For nothing will be impossible with God.
                                                  Luke 1: 37

As is so often the case, a change in perspective and habit and in our whole being, begins in the body. Notice where in your body you feel frustration or fear or boredom when you reside in the Waiting Room. Now would be a good time to breathe, the most basic of spiritual practices. 

I invite you to close your eyes, lightly, not tightly, and take a couple deep cleansing breaths and then breathe gently, in and out, finding your own rhythm. Continue until you feel your body relax and your heart and mind open.

This practice will not reduce your time in the Waiting Room, but you will grow and deepen your ability to be more patient, and I have noticed that when I am more patient, I am more able to give up tight control and to be more compassionate. When I breathe fully and wholly, I am more able to be here now and to be aware of all the reasons I have to be grateful. When I approach my waiting times in the spirit of humility, my trust in God grows. 

Isn't it interesting how these spiritual gifts intersect and interact with each other. If I set out to increase my ability to be patient, somehow that acquaints me with the other gifts, too. 

My Waiting Room prayer for you is that this may be a time of rich growth for you; that in your waiting you become even more of the person God created you to be. 

An Invitation
How have you been challenged by one of the spiritual gifts of waiting  and what might you do to integrate that gift into your life? I would love to know. 

 

Advent Time

Advent is my favorite season. I have gathered my Advent resources, and I am ready.

Frankly, I am somewhat surprised about my eagerness for Advent this year, for Advent is about waiting and preparing. Advent is full of promise and anticipation. Why is it that this year, even more than other years, Advent is just what I need?

After all, haven't we been waiting for months? Months and month. Haven't we been anticipating the end of the pandemic for months? Haven't we been patient, hoping for the promised vaccine? 

Waiting for Christmas Day to arrive seems easy compared to waiting to move forward into a post-pandemic life, especially since Christmas Eve and Day celebrations will not happen in the traditional ways. 

So why rejoice at the beginning of this Advent season? 

Because it IS the season of 

    Waiting

    Preparation

    Promise 

    Anticipation

During most of this past year, we have adapted to life in a pandemic. For some it has been easier than for others, but no one has been able to live without making some changes. Each of us has experienced loss and uncertainty, and most likely, a feeling of loss of control, too. This has been a tough time, and it's not done yet.

However, Advent is a kind of time-out, especially this year, when we won't be racing in and out of stores or to holiday parties or performances. We won't be scrambling to do all the expected things. 

Instead, this Advent offers us a time to relax and wait. Our preparation involves looking inward. Is there spiritual work I need to do? What regrets or hurts need to be put to rest? This season we can open ourselves to the bigger promise that we are beloved by God, no matter what, and we can anticipate what it might mean to live as the people God created us to be. 

I have gathered my tried and true resources from my bookshelves. I ordered an Advent calendar to color from Praying in Color and it has arrived. I closed my eyes and selected this year's companion from my "Advent Perspectives, Companions for the Journey" deck of cards. I have Christmas cards ready to address, and I have decorated the house--earlier than usual and less than usual, but just enough. 

I am ready for Advent. 

Even if you do not observe Advent, I suggest you sit quietly in the almost dark, candle light flickering around you, and breathe in calm and peace and exhale love and joy and hope. Maybe this will become your favorite time of the year, too.

                                           Who wait with fear
                                            who wait with joy
                                            who wait with peace
                                            who wait with rage

                                            who wait at the end
                                            who wait for the beginning
                                            who wait alone
                                            who wait together

                                             bless them.
                                                          from "Blessing for Waiting"
                                                                   Jan Richardson    

An Invitation

Are you ready for Advent? I would love to know. 

Being Divine Light

 One of my best parts of the day is in the morning when I walk up the stairs to the garret, and I turn on the twinkly lights around the window and then light up the sparkly fairy tree. Next is my desk lamp, followed by a small candle and the floor lamp near the Girlfriend Chair. 

I welcome the light. Not because I fear or dislike the darkness. In fact without the darkness I can't see the light.

No, these little lights remind me to know the Divine Light within me. 

And to live as that light in the world. 

Each of us has the task to expand that light into the world.

Here's an example. My husband has been collecting items needed by those whose circumstances have forced them to live in tent encampments in our metropolitan area. The numbers of people without homes is staggering, and imagine what it means to face a Minnesota winter living in a tent. Bruce initially responded to a request from our neighborhood social media site, and then he put out a call to our congregation and wow, the results have been amazing. He takes the donations he receives to a central site, and they are distributed as needed from there.  

And then there was light! 

I have written before about my mother's habit of turning on a lamp in my bedroom whenever I was home visiting. She did that before the dark descended. And then no matter when I went to bed, there was light to welcome me. 

I think that is what is happening outside, too. Last night I stood on our front steps and noticed all the homes lit up with exterior holiday lights. Not only earlier than previous years, but many more than last year. There may be logical reasons for this: the weather has been conducive for outdoor decorating, and our street has lots of young families now, and you know how children love decorations. 

But I suspect the reason is deeper than that. Not only do we need the light, but we need to BE the light right now. We need to extend the light into the world. 

And then there was light! Divine Light

An Invitation 

Where are you noticing light and how are you extending light into the world? I would love to know. 

Do You Care?

I begin my day by reading historian Heather Cox Richardson's  newsletter, "Letters from an American." I confess I do this even before I make the bed and before I head to the garret for my morning devotion time. Often what I read in her daily commentary becomes the basis for my prayers.

What I read Sunday morning almost took my breath away. 

            Excerpts from a new book by

            former President 
            Barack Obama, due out next week, reveal 
            McConnell’s response to a plea from then-
            Vice President Biden to pass a worthwhile bill. 
            McConnell answered: “You must be under the 
            mistaken impression that I care.” 

McConnell, of course, refers to Senator Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-KY).

Let me repeat McConnell's words.

       "You must be under the mistaken impression that I care."

Take in those words. Close your eyes and hear them being said. The man saying them was elected by citizens to serve in the Senate. If you are from Kentucky, how does that sound to you? And in the rest of the country, how would you like it if the man or woman elected to serve the people in your state said he or she didn't care? 

I don't know what the bill was that McConnell was asked to consider, but I expect those who represent me in government positions TO CARE, no matter what the issue is or what position is taken. Care enough to consider, to study, to listen, to investigate, to look at all sides, to ponder, to think, to ask questions. And yes, to challenge. Care at least that much.

Part of my morning devotion time is reading Barbara Brown Taylor's new book, a collection of her sermons, Always A Guest, Speaking of Faith Far From Home. As always, I find her provocative and inspirational. She cares. Her text for a sermon called "How To Lose Your Life Everyday," was Romans 12:14-18.

            Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not

            curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep

            with those who weep. Live in harmony with one

            another; do not be haughty, but associate with the

            lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you are. Do not

            repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what

            is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far as

            it depends on you, live peaceably with all.

These verses are full of admonitions to care. Reread these verses, substituting the word "care" where it makes sense.

            Care for those who persecute you; care and do

            not curse them. Care for those who rejoice, care 

            for those who weep. Live in caring harmony 

            with one another; do not be haughty, but care 

            for the lowly; do not claim to be wiser than you

            are. Do not repay evil for evil, but care about what

            is noble in the sight of all. If it is possible, so far 

            as it depends on you, live peaceably with and

            care for all. 

Hear that, Mr. McConnell. 

Hear that, Nancy, for, of course, those words are for me. 

For each of us. 

How many times have you heard both before and after the election, "What can I do?" Well, we each have to come up with specific answers, and there are plenty out there, but the first step is to care. 

Just care. 

Right now one way--a big way--to show you care is to wear a mask. 

An Invitation

What are some ways you show you care? Where do you see evidence of caring? I would love to know. 

Relief: Post Election Thoughts

 

I heard the news about the Biden-Harris win Saturday morning and exhaled. A deep, long exhale. 

 

I don't think I realized how I had been holding my breath. Not just during the past few days, but for weeks, maybe months.

Throughout the day I felt my body ease, releasing tension, as I inhaled and then EXHALED. 

With each exhalation, I made room for relief and gratitude. Where I had been holding tightly, hoping for hope, I gathered light. 

And just for the moment, that was enough. Let's just delight in the moment, I said to myself. Let's just feel the joy and the exuberance. Let's just honor the work that made this outcome possible, along with the belief that democracy is worth the effort.

But now that we have listened to the grace-filled acceptance speeches, and the fireworks have ended, the work of "what now?" begins. The work of healing and the work of becoming, really becoming the nation we say we want to be. It's time to truly prove that we are a nation of opportunity and justice for all. 

Sunday morning following our online worship service, we moved into the adult forum time, all on ZOOM of course. During that hour we were divided into small break-out groups where we talked about next steps and how we each might make a difference. I imagined the nation on a ginormous ZOOM meeting where we would divide into break-out sessions. Small groups of diverse people with a wide range of beliefs. Small groups in which we would need to introduce ourselves because we have never met each other. 

Our task in those groups would be to listen to one another with the ears of our heart. What are your hopes for our country? What worries you? Where do you find joy? What losses have you experienced? What do you most want me to know about you? What would it take for you to feel more confident in the direction of our country? 

I hear the term "civil discourse" used frequently, usually in the context of how rare it has been in recent years. Civil discourse is a worthy goal, but I want something more--maybe it's "holy" discourse or "sacred" discourse. Discourse that is less about persuasion or even clarity and more about listening each other into our best selves, about remembering that we are all beloved children of God, and we were created to love another. Discourse that is possible because we take time to ground ourselves, to make room for spiritual practices in our lives, and to pay attention to the movement of God within and around us. 

I remember hearing my mother exhale deep sighs as she settled herself into bed at night. It was almost as if she needed to shed the worries, the work, the day's ups and downs before she could rest and restore. Only then could she prepare for the next day. 

And so I exhale. May we all find new ways of breathing together.

An Invitation
As you exhale, what are you making room for? I would love to know. 

"...whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." 

                                                            Philippians 4:8

"When what has always been becomes more important than what might be, institutions die, relationships die, excitement dies."

                                                            Joan Chittister

"The path forward may sometimes be unclear. And it may be messy. But the shared heart is calling, and we have an opportunity to make lasting shifts toward love and justice in our world."

                                                            Kristi Nelson

"This is one of the lessons that Jesus gave through his example: before action, contemplation must take place. And for true contemplation to happen, one must step outside oneself."

                                                            John Valters Paintner

             

                   

    

Election Day: What Will You Do Today?

 First and foremost, If you haven't voted, VOTE!!

Even if you aren't standing in a long line, the day itself is going to feel long--and chances are, we won't know the final results for several days, so plan how you are going to use this time.

Here are a few random ideas:

Leave the House.

           Go for a drive. 

           Walk or bike in your neighborhood. Walk longer than you normally do. Take two walks.

            Pack a picnic and go to a nearby park. Bundle up if it is cold.

            Deliver food to a food shelf. 

            

Create.

          Color. Sketch. Paint. 

          Finish the sweater you started knitting last winter.

          Make a collage. I am putting together favorite photos of Bruce and me with our granddaughter who turns 18 this month.

          Bake cut-out cookies and decorate.

         Untangle your exterior Christmas lights and start decorating. 

Write.

          Compose a letter, not an email, but a chatty, warm letter.

          Start a new journal or continue one.

          Begin putting together your ethical will. Here's a good resource: Ethical Wills, Putting Your Values on Paper by Barry K. Baines.

          Draft your annual Christmas letter. Address envelopes.

          Write a thank you note to someone from your past, even if they are no longer living. 

Clean. 

          Sweep the garage.

          Look for warm clothes to donate to homeless or others in need.

          Rearrange your pantry.

          Dejunk the junk drawer.

          Toss random plastic containers, especially those without covers.

          Scrub the inside of your refrigerator. And while you are at it, throw out old jars of jelly and salad dressing.

           Toss the pumpkins. 

Change.

           Your bedding. In Minnesota it is time for flannel sheets.

           Your sofa pillows and mantel arrangements.

            Your background picture on your phone or laptop or profile picture on Facebook.

             Your routine. 

Start a BIG project.

            Begin to organize the boxes of photos. How long has this been on your list?

            Write the first pages of "The Great American Novel."

            Cut out squares for a quilt.

            Read the first pages of Moby Dick and then keep reading.

            Make lefse. (Look it up, if you don't know what that is.)

Read. (You knew this would be on my list!)

         Reread a favorite book. 

         Read a novel, if you prefer to read nonfiction and vice versa.

         Read a children's book. Aloud.

         Read poetry. Aloud. 

         Read before you take a nap and after you take a nap.

         Read during lunch or dinner.

         Read in your favorite chair or try a new location.

       Make a list of books you want to read and start reading.

         Start rereading a favorite series like the Harry Potter books or Louise Penny's mysteries. 

          Ask a friend what she is reading and what she thinks you should read.    

          Request books from the library and/or place an order with your favorite independent bookstore. 

Research.

          Plan a trip somewhere you've never been or ok, if you must, someplace you want to go to again. Research flights, places to stay, restaurants, activities, sites. Plan your day to day itinerary. 

          Explore volunteer opportunities.

          Study a topic that interests you.

        Pull out a cookbook you haven't used for awhile and plan menus for the next few days--new recipes or old favorites.

          Gather catalogs that have arrived in your mailbox and start ordering Christmas gifts. 

Play.

          Set up a Scrabble game.

          Start a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle.

          Practice the piano or other musical instrument. 

           

Rest. 

        Take a nap--a long nap.

           Enjoy a bubble bath. 

           Crawl into bed and read.

           Listen to soothing music. 

                   

Pray.

Meditate. 

Pray.

Meditate.    

An Invitation
What are you going to do today? I would love to know.