Dear God of the Hungry, Exhausted, and Broken, be present with us.
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God of Creation, we are tired, hopeless, and distracted.
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How does one live one by one? To see each car that passes, not as a soulless mechanized obstacle, but as a vehicle containing someone…
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Fact: a paper bag used to bring home various comestibles is a grocery bag, sack, or, apparently, a poke. It is not a robot mask.
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I love Advent. I am a Christmas Eve girl to my toes. Everything remains to be determined. On Christmas Eve, there is still something to look forward to.
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Hush! The darkness beckons. Those of us living in the northern hemisphere hang in a moment of stillness. The night of the year is upon us.
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What can be said about curiosity? In my lifetime it has been the golden child of emotions. Living her spangled life in contrast to drab “boredom.”
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And just like that the mystery is dispelled. The question is replaced by an answer.
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Advent has arrived once more. It is a return to the beginning.
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God who created the sun that gives us light and the plants who turn that light into energy, we give you thanks! Incarnate God who came to table, we give you thanks! Holy Spirit who fills us with wonder, we give you thanks!
Amen.
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.
Spirit of God, who hovered over the chaos of the waters, meet us in the chaos of movement. Meet us on the way.
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Something has happened. Something is different.
Is it my shoulders? Well...they don’t feel so heavy, hmm.
My jaw...it has been so tight lately... why, it has released, and I can move it all about!
And my chest...oh how I can breathe in so fully!
Who am I becoming? As Scrooge encounters a future without him, rippling with the effects of a life long-lived under his miserly virtues and values, he comes face to face with the impact of his actions, the harvest of seeds long-sown.
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Seeing light coming from the other room, Scrooge peeks inside to find that sure enough, the next ghost has paid his visit.
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Charles Dickens’s response to widespread apathy for the plight of the poor was to write A Christmas Carol. We owe the humanitarian spirit of the Christmas season to this work.
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There is something coming.
Quick, before it is too late, listen.
Do you hear the sound of the oboe? Do you hear the tuning of the violins? Do you hear the rustle of the music on the stand?
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. . . the darkness covered the face of the deep . . .
As we journey into the literal dark of the northern winter, we are asked to embrace that which has been declared worthless. Darkness. Rest. Waiting.
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…the earth was a formless void…
Advent is a journey of preparation, and either I am not that good at preparation or it is really hard. There are just so many contingencies to consider.
In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth…
In the beginning.
The beginning is a starting place. It is the sunrise over a day that has not yet seen the rust and wear of the afternoon. It is a new chance to live. It is a place to choose, once again, who you will be. Whom you will serve. Whom you will allow to be your teacher.