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. 

 

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. 

Discovering Spiritual Practices in our Day

 

Every morning as I make the bed, I pause at the window that looks out into our backyard. I look to see if it is raining or in the winter if we had any more snow during the night. Is the trio of squirrels we call "the boys" busy with their morning exercise program--scampering across the garage roof? I check the color code in the garden--from the neon zinnias to the richness of red roses or the innocence of the peach and white roses and the variety and diversity of greens. 

I smile in deep gratitude for the beauty I see everyday--no matter the weather, the season, the temperature. I give thanks for my husband the gardener. I give thanks for the precious life we have. 

Later, when I head up the stairs to the garret, I pause once again, this time on the landing, and I enjoy another view of the backyard, but I can also see a corner of our neighbors' backyard. Our new neighbors. 

Sunday morning I saw one of the boys, the 6 year old, I think, watering the flowers. He sort of swooshed the watering can in the direction of the flower bed and then, apparently done, dropped the can on the grass, shrugging his shoulders, as if to say, "Glad that's done." His mother was standing nearby, and I saw her point to the watering can, an unspoken "Put it away, please." He did. 

I smiled and then sent a blessing. "Welcome to the block. May you find contentment and love in your new home. May we be good neighbors for each other."

Morning pauses. My first expressions of spiritual practice in the new day. 

One of my spiritual directees commented recently that her usual spiritual practice of morning meditation time wasn't having the effect it had in the past. Something was missing or wrong or whatever. She was concerned she had lost that spiritual practice.

I asked her to tell me about the rest of her day, and she told me about walking her dog several times a day and how she loved seeing the river and being outside and seeing the changes in nature around her. She told me about the group she has organized to read and discuss a book about racial disparities. 

All I needed to do was smile and say, "Sounds to me like those are spiritual practices."

Just like standing at a window and awakening to what is front of my eyes and sending out blessings, consciously or even consciously are forms of spiritual practice. 

I like what Jane Vennard says in her book, Fully Awake and Truly Alive, Spiritual Practices to Nurture Your Soul, "...spiritual practices are those ways of seeing and being in the world that help us wake up and become fully, truly alive." Some of those practices may be formal or "on cushion" like meditating for 20 minutes every morning or less formal or "off cushion," like chopping vegetables and thanking the farmers for growing the fresh produce we eat or listening, really listening, in the conversation with a friend or acquaintance. 

This is a time in our history that the way we have practiced in the past may not feel life-enhancing or may not seem to be an opening to the movement of God in our lives. Perhaps this is a time in our life when we are having more than normal trouble listening to Spirit's whispers or nudges. 

It may be time to try a different practice or it may be time to broaden your definition of spiritual practice. What in the course of your day is an opportunity to become more aware of God and the person you were created to be? What reminders can you find throughout the day that we are all creations of God, and all are invited to grow and give and be grateful. 

A spiritual practice need not be complicated, but may be simplicity itself.

I leave you today with a simple practice based on an exercise in Jan Richardson's new book, Sparrow, A Book of Life and Death and Life. 

Turn your left hand palm down in the desire to release all God wants you to release.

Turn your right hand palm up as an invitation to receive all God wants you to receive.

Place your left hand, palm down, over your right hand, palm up, and feel the energy and the blessing and the love you hold. 

May you discover the possibilities for spiritual practice, spiritual connection, as you move through the day.

An Invitation                                                                                            Are you aware of the need for a different kind of spiritual practice in your life right now? What are you doing that you realize is actually a spiritual practice? What is life-enriching now? I would love to know.

Preparing for Ash Wednesday: Thursday's Reflection

Ash Wednesday is in a few days, and oh no! I haven't decided what my spiritual practice will be during Lent. 

My inbox is full of opportunities. Take this online class or this one or that one or here's an email about a new book of devotions suitable for lectio divina during Lent. Or what about all the books with a Lenten focus already on my shelves? Are there podcasts devoted to Lenten practices. Probably. 

Maybe it is time to return to a focused practice of centering prayer--do it faithfully every day, twice a day, as Father Keating suggests.
Maybe I should consider fasting one day a week, preferably Wednesday because I would feel even more self-righteous when I go to the evening service. Last year I hosted labyrinth sessions every Wednesday evening. Should I do that again?

What should I give up? What should I add in? Is this the time to try something new, something outside of my comfort zone or is this the time to return to a practice used in the past, but kept in my back pocket for when it might be needed? Or do I deepen my core practices--writing in my journal and sitting in quiet meditation each morning? 

I feel a bit overwhelmed with ideas and possibilities, and I wonder how my word for the year, "fullness," intersects with Lent. 

Of course, what I most need to do--right now--is move into silence and allow the voice of God to whisper in my heart. Maybe what I need to do is to let a practice choose me, find me for these sacred days. 

Maybe I need to remember that everyday is sacred.

Maybe I need to remember that a Lenten practice, any kind of spiritual practice, regardless of one's tradition, is not about the doing, but about the being with God. 

                                 It could take you days
                                 to wander these rooms.
                                 Forty at least.

                                 And so let this be
                                 a season for wandering,
                                 for trusting the breaking,
                                 for trusting the rupture
                                 that will return to you

                                 to the One who waits,
                                 who watches
                                 who works within
                                 the rending
                                 to make your heart
                                 whole. 
                                              from "Rend Your Heart"
                                              Circle of Grace
                                              Jan Richardson

An Invitation
Do you feel called to a new practice? An old practice? I would love to know. 

Prayers for Today: Thursday's Reflection

Has your anxiety increased in the last few days? Are you afraid of what might happen, of the possibility of war? 

 I have noticed a tightness in my stomach.  Instead of breathing deeply and evenly, my breath is shallow. At the same time I have jumped from one activity to another and been unable to focus on the work in front of me. 

I do not watch television during the day, but I do listen to National Public Radio when I fix dinner or do other household tasks or when I am in the car. The last few days, however, I have checked in with news reports more frequently, wanting to know if something major that affects our security has happened. 

What is it I most need to do right now? Yes, I need to express my response to those who represent me in Congress, for example, but first, I need to sit. 

Monday night I met with my spiritual direction peer group. We meet monthly to support each other in our work. The facilitator for the evening opened our session by reading "Blessing of Courage" in Jan Richardson's The Cure for Sorrow. The blessing includes these words:
                      But you will know it
                      by the strength
                      that rises from within you
                      to meet it,
                      by the release
                      of the knot
                      in the center of
                      your chest
                      that suddenly lets go.

I sat in the silence of early morning meditation time and read these words over and over, gradually feeling the knot in my chest unwind. As my breathing found its own rhythm, I grazed in the book, landing on the words my heart needed. 

                     Let there be
                     an opening
                     into the quiet
                     that lies beneath
                     the chaos
                     where you find
                     the peace
                     you did not think
                     possible
                     and see what shimmers
                     within the storm.
                              from "Blessing in the Chaos"

                     So may we know
                     the hope
                     that is not just
                     for someday
                     but for this day--
                     here, now,
                     in this moment
                     that opens to us...

                     not someday
                     but this day,
                     every day,
                     again and
                     again and
                     again.
                                    from "Blessing of Hope"

There will be other days of increased anxiety and of felt fear. I know I can't escape times when I am afraid, whether it is about a personal situation or, as in the recent days, about potential impact on the entire world. 

What is always available to me at those times, however, is to sit, to sit in silence, and to listen for the presence of God within and around me. May it be so. 

An Invitation
When you are afraid or anxious, what do you do to find equanimity? 

My Advent Companion, Mary: Thursday's Reflection

I did what I always do when I have a new direction for my meditation/prayer time or when I am preparing a class or talk or retreat or when I am diving into a writing topic: I gather resources, beginning with my personal library. 









When I randomly selected the Mary card (Read here.) as my Advent companion, I eagerly stacked books near my Girlfriend Chair, which is where I sit in the mornings. I was prepared to study Mary, but, of course, that isn't really what is happening. 







Instead, I am sitting with Mary and listening to what she has to say to me. Sometimes we just sit and breathe. She's pregnant and near her delivery date, so her breath is sometimes heavy and labored. She sits with her hand on the curved mound, patting the babe she has not yet met, but feeling the movement, the tapping and kicking. I remember those days, even though they were so long ago and my children have been adults for many years. 

Sometimes, however, I read to Mary. I read what others have written about her or what she might have said. 

                   Not to one
                   but to many you have called:
                   come
                   on the dancing wind
                   come
                   from the deepest forest
                   come 
                   from the highest places
                   come
                   from the edge of darkness
                   come 
                   from the depth of fear
                   and become
                   the bearer of God.
                                      Jan Richardson 
                                     Night Visions, Searching the Shadows of 
                                     Advent and Christmas, p. 7

And then we chat.

I exclaim, "The bearer of God? The bearer of God!!"

She tells me she was amazed at that notion, too, but she was assured all would be well. She had been chosen and without having any satisfactory answers, she finally agreed, "Let it be so." 

"Or did I say, 'let it be me' or 'let it be done'? I'm not sure. I don't think it really matters. 

"No, I suppose not, but the bearer of God? Really?"

"Really. I agreed to be the bearer of God, but the question now, Nancy, is how will you be the bearer of God?"

It is my turn to sigh heavily, deeply. That is the question, isn't it? And one I sometimes struggle to answer. 

I tend to be overwhelmed by all the possibilities, the opportunities, which become muddled by all I think I have to do or want to do or am in the middle of doing. I feel pregnant, almost overfull, with ideas and insights and choices right now. 

Ah, this is the perfect time to stop and breathe. To clear the space. To pause. How can I be the bearer of God today, right now, here and now? 

I am reminded of the Hasidic saying, "Every time we walk down the street, we are preceded by hosts of angels singing, 'Make way, make way for the image of God.'"

We are each invited to be the image of God, the bearer of God. In fact, we each ARE the image of God, the bearer of God. We do that in our interactions, our reactions, our actions. We do that in the way we choose to move through the day and in the way we lift our hearts in prayer and our hands in service. 

"It's quite simple isn't it, Mary?" 

Mary nods in that serene, accepting way she has. "Let it be so."

An Invitation
How do you live as the bearer of God? I would love to know. 

Advent Mornings: Thursday's Reflections

As you faithful readers know, I begin my days with meditation/devotion time. I wrap a shawl around my shoulders and sit back luxuriously in my Girlfriend Chair, my feet up on an ottoman covered in vintage fabrics. I close my eyes and breathe deeply to find my own rhythm and eventually, I open my current devotional book and awaken to inspiration and reflection for the day.

Eager for the beginning of Advent, over the weekend I shopped my bookshelves and gathered a stack of materials to companion me during the days leading to Christmas. Old favorites. Three books by Jan Richardson and also a book by Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan I read years ago, The First Christmas, What the Gospels Really Teach About Jesus's Birth. Of course, my Bible and my journal were close by, too. 

I also made copies of the outline of a labyrinth. Last year I drew a series of mandalas during Advent Read here. and I considered doing that again this year, but how about, instead, coloring labyrinths? I wonder what doing that might reveal to me.

And finally, I added to the already teetering pile a precious small journal a friend gave me when she visited this fall. The lightly textured cover is in shades of blue, the color of Advent, and the paper is silky, beckoning my fountain pen. I decided to use this small book to record quotations that resonate or perplex or comfort or engage me during these weeks.

I was ready. Bring on Advent!

Here's what happened.

Monday: I began my day by taking a shower and dressing first, instead of retreating for meditation time. I had to reverse my usual order because we were getting a new furnace and the heating guys would arrive early. By the time I had put my feet up, the clatter and chatter had begun. Silence was shattered and so was my meditation time. 

Tuesday: I called this my Marathon Day. Events were scheduled morning, afternoon, and evening with little space in between. Once again, instead of beginning my day with quiet, I did what I needed to do to leave the house for the first event of the day. And to do it extremely carefully because the roads were covered in ice and a slight layer of new snow. All went well.

Wednesday: Ah, finally. The first day of Advent for me. And how rich it was. I read Jan Richardson's words:

           "...this presence who goes with us as day gives
            way to darkness."     

I wrote in my journal about the gifts of the previous two days and  realized how the Presence had been my companion, even though my usual routine had been upended. 

Morning time grounds me and offers the space I need to uncover the person God created me to be, but sometimes life happens and the day has other plans for me. It is at those times I most need to open to the Presence who companions me. Advent is in the quiet, and Advent is in the movement of our lives.

An Invitation
In what ways do you sense the companionship of the Sacred? I would love to know. 

A Blessing for Now: Tuesday's Reflection

During my morning meditation time recently I have been reading a new book by Jan Richardson, Circle of Grace, A Book of Blessings for the Seasons. Richardson says a blessing is designed to "call upon and convey God's deepest desire for our wholeness and well-being, both individually and in community," and "calls upon the presence of God and asks for the aid of the Divine, often in times of peril and pain."

God knows we are in the midst of peril and pain. 

Richardson says blessings are meant to "provoke us, to incite us to a response. The best blessings awaken our imaginations." Therefore I offer Richardson's "Blessing When the World Is Ending"

Look, the world 
is always ending
somewhere.

Somewhere 
the sun has come 
crashing down.

Somewhere
it has gone
completely dark.

Somewhere 
it has ended
with the gun,
the knife, 
the fist.

Somewhere 
it has ended
with the slammed door,
the shattered hope.

Somewhere 
it has ended
with the quiet 
that follows the news
from the phone,
the television,
the hospital room.

Somewhere it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break 
your heart.

But listen
this blessing means 
to be anything
but morose.
It has not come 
to cause despair.

It is here
simply because
there is nothing
a blessing
is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing
than when a world 
is falling apart.

This blessing
will not fix you,
will not mend you,
will not give you
false comfort;
it will not talk to you
about one door opening
when another one closes.

It will simply
sit beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light
will come
gathering itself
about you
as the world begins 
again. 

Again, I quote Richardson.
              The best blessings awaken our imaginations. In places
              of difficulty, struggle, or pain, blessings beckon us to
              look closely rather than turn away. In such places,
              they challenge us not to accept how things are but 
              to dream of how they could be transformed. They
              invite us to discuss how God might be calling us
              to participate in bringing this transformation to pass. 

An Invitation
How are blessings alive in your life? I would love to know. 

NOTE: Jan Richardson has been a wise woman in my life for many years through her books, her art, and her online presence. You can find her at http://www.janrichardson.com