Daily Visitation

Saturday of the Third Week of Advent

Indeed, there is not a word on my lips,

but you, O God, know it altogether.

Psalm 138:3

At dinner, we decide to light the fourth advent candle on our wreath, even though we are two days early. When I was a child, we used to light the next candle at dinner on Saturday, anticipating the dawning of the new week to come. I’m not sure why. I do remember as the youngest child eagerly waiting for my turn to light the candles. This night, my spouse lights the candle as I say the prayer.

“Purify our conscience, Almighty God,” I pray.

“By you daily visitation,” he responds.

I need this prayer before my Advent journey collides into Christmas Eve. I do feel ready for the rapid succession of events about to unfold. And I also want to remember, and hold close, the daily visitation of the God who loves me. Who knows even the words on my lips before I speak.

God broke into the world as an infant long ago. God continues to break into weary hearts. And the Morning Star continues to rise and the darkness will not overcome it.

 

In the midst

Friday of the Third Week of Advent

Give me the joy of your saving help again

and sustain me with your bountiful Spirit.

Psalm 51:13

Raucous children filling the parish hall with laughter as we prepare to rehearse the pageant. Musicians practicing familiar carols both quiet and robust. Long-time friends chattering as they work contentedly bringing out all the ritual trappings of the season. The sounds of preparation surround me, pushing away noisy distractions, creating holy space in the midst.

In the midst of unready-ness. In the midst of shortcomings. In the midst of doubt. In the midst of hardheartedness. In the midst of sorrow. In the midst of expectation.

In the midst of a world both broken and full of loving-kindness a manger lies waiting to once again receive the gift of Love.

Not wanting

Thursday of the Third Week of Advent

Feast of St. Thomas the Apostle

The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not be in want.

Psalm 23:1

I have to consciously breathe my way through the store, focusing on my list and not allowing my senses and my soul to be captured by all that is on offer. I can get so easily overwhelmed by commercial appeals, brightly colored items arrange attractively on shelves, and aisles that lead me to more stuff. I thought this was going to be a one stop trip. I am now at my fourth store.

The enemy is always close at hand at the holy times, a friend tells me. Well of course. What better way to disrupt the peace brought by the One who embodies healing and mercy than to lead me astray on my way to the manger with anxious thoughts that I need more in order to be OK.

I escape with my final purchase into what will be the longest night. At dinner, we light three candles on the Advent wreath, doing our part to usher brightness into the world. The ritual reminds me there is more illumination to come. I am not in want.

 

Crossing paths with majesty

Tuesday of the Third Week of Advent

We have waited in silence on your loving-kindness, O God,
in the midst of your temple.
Psalm 48:8

The narrow road winds through the trees, unlit except for the crescent moon that peeks between bare tree limbs. It is only 5:00pm, but it feels like the middle of the night as I travel this unfamiliar route to an unfamiliar destination. I drive with caution because of the unfamiliarity, the darkness, the rain, and the real possibility that a deer might jump into my path.

But it is not a deer. I see a car coming towards me slow to a stop, and I slow too as my headlights pick up shapes crossing the road. Not deer. Ruffed grouse.

I wait in silence and awe as three of these majestic birds cross the road, one fanning her tail feathers in a regal display that I can see in the cross beams of the car lights.

Here in the middle of the woods in darkness and rain and on an unfamiliar road, I am in God’s temple, watching as God puts on a grand display of love and life. In the dark and unfamiliar roads of Advent I also watch, waiting for the majesty of an infant to cross my path. 

image credit: Cornell Lab of Ornithology

 

creating/creativity/Creator

 Monday of the Third Week of Advent

If we have forgotten the Name of our God,

or stretched out our hands to some strange god,

Will not God find it out?

For God knows the secrets of the heart.

Psalm 44:20-21

I open the new pack of felt tip drawing pens with a sense of devotion. I had forgotten about them, only discovering them in a drawer when I was looking for something else. I don’t know when I bought them, but I am sure I did so as a treat to myself. I have another pack, well-used and missing at least one color, which I have had since high school when I won an art competition and used the gift card I received to purchase some high-quality art supplies.

Just taking in the newness and brightness of the pens brings me pleasure. And also a note of caution. I am a bit of a hoarder when it comes to art stuff. Several drawers of supplies for unfinished projects, a few craft kits unopened, boxes containing the ends of things (bits of fabric, used bottles of glitter glue, scraps of decorative paper) that might be useful someday.

I wonder. Does my grasping for and holding on to creative supplies actually clutter the creative process? When I surround myself with fine materials, do I make idols of the stuff, when what I need is just to immerse myself in the Creator?

Obstacles

 Saturday of the Second Week of Advent

Send out your light and your truth,

that they may lead me,

and bring me to your holy hill

and to your dwelling.

Psalm 43:3

The setting of the December sun quickens our steps as we want to complete our hike before the daylight gives out. And then. A large fallen trunk across the path impedes our progress. It is amazing to me that trees in the forest just fall over. Majestic towers giving themselves over as water and loosened soil deny their roots anything to grasp.

I know that this obstacle in our path is not intentional (although my spouse points out, rightly, that if this were a novel or a game we would now be in the midst of an ambush.)

The obstacles on my way to the manger are not put there by some divine presence to stall me. As if the birth of God into the world was in any way attuned to my daily meanderings. The assault of commercialism, the tasks to be accomplished, the fear of disappointing others. These are impediments to which I subject myself.

After a few moments of discerning the best way over the fallen trunk, we are on our way. Heading into the coming dusk. Heading home. Heading to the manger.

Sunlit

Friday of the Second Week of Advent

Into your hands I commend my spirit,

for you have redeemed me, O God of truth.

Psalm 31:5

The winter sunlight not only send swaths of brightness across the room, but warmth as well. I pause in my tasks to soak up the light and along with its energy. I could curl up like a cat in one of the sunny pools. Or let the brilliance spur me to creative activity. Either choice leads me close to the manger.

And this is the promise of Advent. The Savior comes. Always. And in all ways. There is no choice I can make, or path I can travel, where Christ is not reaching out to me offering redemption. The ultimate choice of faith, is to place myself, my life, my spirit into the hands of love.