"The power of stories is that they are telling us that life adds up somehow, that life itself is like a story. And this grips us and fascinates us because of the feeling it gives us that if there is meaning in any life-in Hamlet’s, in Mary’s, in Christ’s-then there is meaning also in our lives. And if this is true, it is of enormous significance in itself, and it makes us listen to the storyteller with great intensity because in this way all his stories are about us and because it is always possible that he may give us some clue as to what the meaning of our lives is."Frederick Buechner

What is the meaning of your life? Is this a question that ever grips you? I think Frederick Buechner’s words ring true for me in my own search for what the meaning of my life is. It is most often in hearing the stories of others that I connect and have an ‘ah-hah!’ moment that makes clearer my own search. Somehow in reflecting on the life story of another, I see my own story more fully, more brilliantly.

At this time of year especially, the classic film It’s a Wonderful Life will be shown over and over. I have to admit to being held captive by this tale of George Bailey, the man who gets to see how the world would be different if he had not been born. Through watching George, year after year, I am reminded once again of the daily connections with friends and strangers in which I make some kind of difference…..for good or ill. I am reminded that, no matter whether we think so or not, each of us as we live our lives has a part to play in the life story of another. Watching George come to a realization of his impact on people he may have only had a passing relationship with, somehow invites me to hold my own interactions with greater gentleness,greater intention. In some way George’s story becomes my story.

But what of those other life stories we encounter? You know the ones in which a person is living out a life story that is full of trouble, pain, illness and despair? How do their stories also become our own? How do we hold ourselves within the stories of the homeless,the mentally ill, those on the brink of  hopelessness, those with whom we radically disagree? It is a humbling thought.

During this season when we long for the in-breaking  of the Holy into our midst, how do we, like Mary, say ‘yes!’ to God’s presence within us? How do we, like Joseph, listen to the dreams of the night to give us counsel? How do we, like the shepherds, wait patiently, watching those in our care with one eye on the sky? How do we, like Herod, deal with our insecurities and fears? How do we, like the Magi, set out on an unknown path toward what it is we wish to worship, offering all that we have?

Stories…….meaning……it all adds up.

Walking up the stairs to our second floor some time over the weekend, I was stopped in my tracks by the tiny bits of frost and ice that had frozen to the outside of the window. The sun was shining and the snowy patterns glistened like diamonds, the sun creating rainbow prisms that shot out from the frosty glass. I stood there, taking in the beauty of this simple act of nature.

It has been very cloudy for days and so when the sun came out, everything seemed to shine and be pronounced in a bright, yet brittle, way. I recognize that many people do not like this time of year with its cold winds and short days. But there is something about it all that I truly love, not the least of which is how welcoming almost all homes look with the lights on inside as you drive or walk by. There is a coziness that exudes from the windows when the lights shine out and reflect upon the snow.

Last night my husband and I walked around Lake of the Isles. The clouds were moving out and it was getting colder by the minute. Christmas lights blinked on many of the houses, a snow man there, a Christmas tree here and a whole herd of lighted deer grazed on one lawn. As our cheeks got redder and colder, the welcome lights within these houses seemed warmer and warmer. Each home seemed to glow with hospitality…..whether they intended to or not.

Friends had just given me Peter Mayer’s Midwinter CD. Later as I listened, I thought that these words must have been written for the experience I had just had. "The houses of winter stand in a row with chimneys that billow and windows that glow. They play out their scenes for the snow drifts and icy streets at night. Inside they are clearing their dishes away watching the news and recounting the day and reading their children stories before bedtime. And when the rites of the evening are done, the lights in the windows go dark one by one until the inhabitants all fall asleep and the houses of winter become houses of dreams."

Houses of dreams…..winter houses……yes, that’s what I saw…..welcoming me.

"The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him."
                                                                    Luke 2:40

Our youngest son turns seventeen tomorrow. It seems old to me somehow,though I know that it is not. He was born in a winter similar to the way this one has begun…..cold and snowy with promise of more to come. On his first Christmas Eve, only three weeks old, I remember bundling him up to take him to church and the temperature was fifteen degrees below zero. We accomplished this feat so we could see his three year old brother don wings and a halo as an angel in the Christmas pageant. It was a magical Christmas…..to hold a newborn baby while listening to the story of the birth of Jesus. That year I felt closer to Mary than ever before…….much older but closer.

That Christmas season had its own built in Sabbath time cycle….all driven by the needs of this small wonder. I had excuses to rest, to simply sit and enjoy, to sleep when needed, eat when hungry, revel in the beauty of it all. It was, I know, a privilege. I had the resources, both financial and human, to simply be present to what was needed. I think of all those mothers, young and old, who struggle in so many ways  to offer what is needed to their children and offer up a prayer and blessing for them. In truth, they have much more in common with Mary than I ever had or will have.

But the one thing we share…all mothers, all parents, throughout time…is the sheer gift of being present to the unfolding of a person in your midst. To watch them grow, to see their awe and delight in being new to this amazing world. To see their interests develop, glimpse their future passions, encourage their commitments. And of course we must also witness their failures and challenges, their heartache, their pain and have it become our own.

As we celebrate tomorrow, we celebrate all of it…..and the joy of what is yet to be for this wonderful young man. Once again, I know I am privileged…and blessed….like all the mothers before me and after me.

"His  mother treasured all these things in her heart."  Luke 2:51

Have a warm and safe weekend………

"Above all, trust in the slow work of God. We are quite naturally impatient in everything. We would like to skip the intermediate stages. We are impatient of being on the way to something unknown, something new….Only God could say what this new spirit gradually forming within you will be."
                                                       Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

I find myself plowing through what seems like slow work these days. I have many servings on my work plate that are ‘in process’ and have been for some time.Churches everywhere are also involved in ‘slow work’, fairly sure where they have been, somewhat sure of where they are, and for most, clueless about where they are being called into the future. Each day our country and world leaders take up their ‘slow work’….poverty, homelessness, injustice, war, a never ending hope for peace. Perhaps the lesson in all that is that anything important, anything of worth, comes from slow work.

Oh, my, how we wish it weren’t so! In our culture which so often allows us to get whatever we want quickly, without fuss or inconvenience, to be involved in slow work is painful. Where is the drive-through fix for this problem? Can’t I just pop this in the microwave be done with it? Can’t I pay someone to do this for me?

Advent engages us in slow work. The birth of the Christ child, the in-breaking of God, is both celebration and process. Advent is a now and ‘not yet’ time. As we walk toward the celebration of Christmas, we also mark the waiting of giving birth, the steps toward a yet-to-be-realized peace, the anticipation of an unfulfilled longing that goes deeper than words. Advent requires patience of us.

So today may we invite patience into our lives. Just as a child takes nine months to be born, so any new thing takes the slow work of growing,of changing shape, of forming in ways that are beyond our imagination. Who knows what wants to be born from our work, our lives? Perhaps in the slow work of walking with Spirit, we might walk confidently toward this new birth.

This is my prayer…………..

"Here I stand; and I say a prayer. Come, Lord, come down, come in, come among us. Enter into our darkness with your light. Come fill our emptiness with your presence. Dispel the clouds and reveal your glory. Come refresh, renew, restore us. Come Lord, come down, come in, come among us."
                    A Celtic Prayer for Advent from the Holy Island of Lindisfarne

I received this prayer in a newsletter this past week. For those who don’t know, Lindisfarne is an island on the northeastern coast of England. It is a rocky, desolate looking place. It would seem an unlikely piece of land to build both a monastery and a castle. Depending on the tides, the water can move in and render any land invisible. There is only towering rock and the shelter for monks and pilgrims perched atop the island. It was the home to both St. Aidan who traveled there from Iona and St. Cuthbert in the late 7th and early part of the 8th centuries.

When I read this prayer, the notion of the God who comes among us became palpable. I imagined those early Christians standing atop that rocky mountain praying this prayer. It might have been an especially important prayer as their vulnerability to Viking invaders became more real. "Come down…come in….come among us." The fervency of the prayer cuts through time.

On Sunday evening as we gathered for a service of prayer and music for peace and an end to war in Iraq, this was our prayer….come down, come in, come among us, God. Though our terrain is not a rocky, isolated monastery jutting out of the ocean, sometimes it sure feels like it. Vulnerable, lonely, frightening, full of despair. "Come fill our emptiness with your presence."

 As we walk through the daily trials of illness, uncertainty, hopelessness, we pray:"Dispel the clouds and reveal your glory." Yesterday I listened as someone asked for just a sign that we are all held by the same God, all united in the same love, even when we construct words and religions to prove the opposite.Yes, just a sign.

As pilgrims along the journey of Advent this is our prayer….come refresh us, come renew us, come restore us……so we may witness to your Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Come Lord, come down, come in, come among us……we pray.

"Go out after midnight
with the sky trembling in snowy light–
each star holding its filament of desire.
Merge your mind with the spiraling galaxies —
with a movement so large
only Your heart can encompass it.
Drop your prayer into the ear of God.
Write a poem to help her hear it.
Notice the moon grow more distant and diffuse —
Reappear as your Beloved
looking through eyes vast as Winter Sky." Elizabeth Reninger

I am not sure why the idea came to me. Perhaps it is that early December, Advent, is meant to be a minimalist time. It is dark……day and night. This morning I had to convince my seventeen year old that we weren’t really getting him up to go to school in the middle of the night. As I write this, snow is falling outside my window, the trees stand leafless, vulnerable yet somehow strong against the blustery wind.. And so under these conditions, the idea came to me that I should write a poem each day of Advent. As one of my favorite friends would say…."Well, that’s goofy!".

And maybe it is. Who knows? But poetry seems to be the way to go in these darkest days of winter. Few, but important words, slim of syllables and big on meaning. Looking at a printed page, the black ink would look like ciphers on snow. Appropriate.

It is not usually a practice of Advent to give up anything or to take anything on for that matter. Heaven knows there is enough to do in these few short weeks before Christmas. But, what could it hurt? At the very least I will have 23 mostly mediocre poems on Christmas Eve. But the process itself could really teach me something, I think. And here it is….perhaps the practice of doing something with "less" will allow me to clear out the clutter of "too much" so I can see, hear, feel, know, the gifts of this season.Perhaps in paring back all the advertising, the hype, the glitzy language, I’ll find the kernel.

It’s worth a try.I’ll let you know how the experiment goes.

And so we light the first candle of Advent and the season begins. With that lighting, there is expectation and waiting. There is hope and longing. There is darkness and there is light. Growing up I didn’t spend much time with the season of Advent. We went straight to the red and green of Christmas and skipped the blue and purple of Advent all together. While an Advent wreath may have been visible,it was an after- thought, something present without much explanation.So I am pleased that the church has come to more fully enter into this season before Christmas.

It is a radical notion to think-to believe-it is possible to go up against the hype of this holiday season, to somehow put the brakes on the commercial frenzy around and to sit quietly in the darkness of these days.To be reflective about the in-breaking of the Holy amidst the clamoring of those who need our dollars to profit, or at least break even, is tricky work. But that is exactly what Advent calls us to do……to rest in the blue light of winter, to embrace the ‘bleak midwinter’…..to quiet our hearts and minds in anticipation of the celebration of Christmas, Emmanuel, God-with-us.

Advent is a truly counter-cultural thing that the church embraces. Advent says….not yet, not now, wait. It is a practice of delayed gratification for some, a deep prayer for others. Many people want to sing Christmas carols all December but in many churches, mine being one, we resist until Christmas Eve, to many people’s dismay. But on the 24th, when people raise their voices in "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" it is a full-throated choir of angels. When "Joy to World" rings out, the rafters quake with the sound. And during that final, quiet but intense "Silent Night", there can be now doubt that the waiting is over and our anticipation has been fulfilled.

Yesterday we sang these words:"Mystery in darkness, feel the Spirit’s breath. Praise light’s holy absence, granting space for rest. Sing for those who sleep now, all who dream and sigh, Source of every comfort, healing dark, abide."

Welcome to Advent………………