Son of God who sat and told stories, Creator God who filled the stones with tales of mystery, Spirit of God who inhabits our stories, be they tales of joy or sorrow, grant us the courage to tell the truth—our truth.
Amen.

Grace to You, people, souls, hearts, pilgrims of the Dispersed Community of the Missional Wisdom Foundation,

I write to you today from a moment of pause within a tangle of self-imposed obligations. Music recitals, Advent liturgies, holiday decorating (because I promised my kids we would decorate the tree on Thursday), and research papers are all waiting for me to finish. Writing. My heart. I am nestled in my writing chair which is more comfortable than ergonomic, and I need to get up to open the blinds. I don't like to write blind. The words come through the windows. The birds and the naked trees and the hovering insects filter the words into something manageable. When I am asked what I do, I say writer because capturer of words deposited on my window sill is a bit unwieldy. But writing is more like catching than making.

I am so grateful for this moment of writing.

We confess that we have not heard the story of the other. We confess that we have not listened well. We ask for the patience and the courage to both tell and listen. We rejoice in the beauty of each of the stories that are told here.

Dispersed Community, do you sometimes weary of telling and telling and telling your story only to find that no one was listening? Me too. But can I tell you a secret? Telling your story is part of who you are becoming. Your story is one part experience and two parts grace, and telling it to the universe enlivens all of us. And how do you know what is listening or not? The sunlight and the hovering insect and the circling wing bear you and me witness. You story is what compels you into what isn't yet but will be.

Advent is a leaning toward what will be. Advent is a pregnant moment. A gestation of possibility. An enfolding of grace which pulses with life.

As with telling is with listening. What can you start by listening to the other? Could you give the one in front of you the courage to dance? What could you stir-up by answering their telling with listening? Could you quicken their hope? What can you harbor within you when you pause to gather in the other's words? Could you midwife the birth of joy?

Dear ones, Advent is here. It tells the story of one who said yes to the story of the world. It tell the story of a God whose lungs inflated for the first time with the wail of a newborn. It tells a story of a world groaning under the weight of grace.

As we gather, we are seen. As we tell, we are heard, as we love, we are loved. Grant to each of us the joy of being seen, heard, and loved.

In the name of the Word through whom all was created, Amen.