Two weeks ago, I quit a job that zapped my soul. Since then, my doctor notes how my blood pressure is down and the weight is coming off, too. Literally, the weight is coming off… off of my shoulders and my heart. I sleep again, and wake up singing. I am very thankful for this reprieve. As Voltaire stated, “I have decided to be happy because it is good for my health.”
I’m not sure I know where I’m going or how I’m going to get there, but I am familiar with unfamiliar territory. As I said to a friend yesterday, I feel like I’m in this little bumpity wagon and God is taking me for a ride. “Hey, look,” we say together as we pass the barren trees growing ripe to welcome winter snows. “Did you notice the goldfinch are brown now?” “Can you begin to feel the calm seeping into your being?” “It’s going to be okay. I’m with you. I’m leading you.” My friend reminded me that there is coming a time when I’ll be asked to get out of the wagon, and hey, I might be dumped out… but for now, there is respite for my being. There is the promise that I’m not alone, that the creation I am is enough, and that now is the time to be present to what is. God is mending me and returning me to delight.
Sunday, I was sitting in the quiet of worship. Sometimes, as a way of growing still, I study the stained glass windows. They are so beautiful in this little Meeting House that I love. Most often my eyes rest easy on the window of Jesus and the sheep. He holds one close, and I often think of myself as that little lamb with my heart beating close to Christ’s. Such comfort! But on this Sunday, I was facing a different direction and studying a different window. I love how colors bleed into one another, how light changes the intensity of the colors, and how someone was so thoughtful and talented to create such artistry. Then, I noticed that there were cracks in the glass. It reminded me of once visiting a museum with a display of Tiffany windows and how there were cracks in those windows as well. And yet, the windows were still in one piece… true also with the windows I was currently viewing.
There was a time when I worked in stained glass, and I learned then that so long as a crack goes from one solder seam to the next, with care, it will most often stay in place. Isn’t that amazing? And isn’t that like us? We sat together Sunday in a prayerful circle holding together the bruises and cracks from our own lives and the lives of those we love. We prayed for all that is torn in our world, for all of those so wounded that they wound others. And we moved in closely, and we bound together like solder lines. Our presence and our prayers hold our hurting brothers and sisters in comfort and beauty.
It is now the season of Advent. It has arrived just in the nick of time. How we need to allow reflection, and to grow still as we wait for what is to come. Maybe we shouldn’t be asking, “What do you want for Christmas?” Maybe we should be asking, “What do you want for Advent?” Maybe it’s not about hustle and bustle and frantic decorating and purchasing. Maybe we all need to get into God’s wagon and go for a quiet ride. Maybe we need to ride side by side, listening to the sound of snow falling and watching our puffs of breath make cloud wishes that keep us warm. Maybe we can be the solder for each other that evokes peace and healing as we find our way towards Christmas. Hold someone close to your heart or in your heart, and then hold yourself close to the heart of Christ. This is what we can do. This is what we can give. May the coming days grant us such peace.
I’m not sure I know where I’m going or how I’m going to get there, but I am familiar with unfamiliar territory. As I said to a friend yesterday, I feel like I’m in this little bumpity wagon and God is taking me for a ride. “Hey, look,” we say together as we pass the barren trees growing ripe to welcome winter snows. “Did you notice the goldfinch are brown now?” “Can you begin to feel the calm seeping into your being?” “It’s going to be okay. I’m with you. I’m leading you.” My friend reminded me that there is coming a time when I’ll be asked to get out of the wagon, and hey, I might be dumped out… but for now, there is respite for my being. There is the promise that I’m not alone, that the creation I am is enough, and that now is the time to be present to what is. God is mending me and returning me to delight.
Sunday, I was sitting in the quiet of worship. Sometimes, as a way of growing still, I study the stained glass windows. They are so beautiful in this little Meeting House that I love. Most often my eyes rest easy on the window of Jesus and the sheep. He holds one close, and I often think of myself as that little lamb with my heart beating close to Christ’s. Such comfort! But on this Sunday, I was facing a different direction and studying a different window. I love how colors bleed into one another, how light changes the intensity of the colors, and how someone was so thoughtful and talented to create such artistry. Then, I noticed that there were cracks in the glass. It reminded me of once visiting a museum with a display of Tiffany windows and how there were cracks in those windows as well. And yet, the windows were still in one piece… true also with the windows I was currently viewing.
There was a time when I worked in stained glass, and I learned then that so long as a crack goes from one solder seam to the next, with care, it will most often stay in place. Isn’t that amazing? And isn’t that like us? We sat together Sunday in a prayerful circle holding together the bruises and cracks from our own lives and the lives of those we love. We prayed for all that is torn in our world, for all of those so wounded that they wound others. And we moved in closely, and we bound together like solder lines. Our presence and our prayers hold our hurting brothers and sisters in comfort and beauty.
It is now the season of Advent. It has arrived just in the nick of time. How we need to allow reflection, and to grow still as we wait for what is to come. Maybe we shouldn’t be asking, “What do you want for Christmas?” Maybe we should be asking, “What do you want for Advent?” Maybe it’s not about hustle and bustle and frantic decorating and purchasing. Maybe we all need to get into God’s wagon and go for a quiet ride. Maybe we need to ride side by side, listening to the sound of snow falling and watching our puffs of breath make cloud wishes that keep us warm. Maybe we can be the solder for each other that evokes peace and healing as we find our way towards Christmas. Hold someone close to your heart or in your heart, and then hold yourself close to the heart of Christ. This is what we can do. This is what we can give. May the coming days grant us such peace.
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