holy wonder

 the other day i went out to the car, early morning, on the way to work. the light was beautiful - gold, lighting the tops of trees and edges of things, spilling itself on the new day. overhead, a "V" of 30 canadian geese flew honking above me, their underbellies gilded, lit by the rising sun. holy wonder.

i try to freeze these moments when i have them. when the colors and the light and the air holds joy. 

we are finding ourselves here, back where we found each other 33 years ago. in fields between towns, along stone walls and beside oceans. we have landed back where we began, before we grew all these limbs of children and barnacles and scars. holy wonder. 

now when we walk those fields and return to beaches, just the two of us, we are finding ourselves again- old and new- picking through our history and deciding what pieces to keep and what to toss to the ocean as we move forward together.

today i walked alone out for about a mile to a quiet spot, to a sandy rocky spot on the beach. as i walked i realized that i never do this. i never walk alone into wooded spaces, quiet uninhabited places where who knows what could be lurking who knows where. i felt uncomfortable when i left the roadside and disappeared into the fields and woods and it bothered me. but i walked on anyway- a muddy path though pampas grass, hopping on stones across a tidal pool to a green grass clearing. in my mind i walked back through many places much more green and lush and warm, i walked back to africa, to the rushing nile river, to all the opposites of here, the color and vibrancy, the largeness of it, sound and smell and perspective. soon the path ended, it was just me and the wind and 2 seagulls and the tide pulling away. i think it may have been the first time i have been alone and in silence and with the earth maybe ever or at least in many years. there was no one. it was just stillness, and my boots suctioning the sandy mud and the wind in the dry marsh grasses and the bit of drizzle on my face, like the end of the world. joy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

there was something in that being alone in the cool early winter morning with the ocean nearby. i felt small and insignificant in the right way, and held and loved in the best way too. i was so happy to be in that quiet and to feel free.  to be okay to look back and look ahead. holy wonder.

holy waiting

 the first sunday of advent. my most favorite of seasons perhaps. an opportunity for choosing pause and wonder in long dark cold days. the winter stretches out it's arms in the north to show how much of the year it takes up with it's bare trees and brown grass. in uganda advent felt important in a different way, it was a chance to interrupt the sameness of the year, the constancy, to disrupt the natural equatorial rhythm and invite a new routine for the month. to light the candles, to read specific scriptures, sing carols and sit in the wonder- the entering of the divine. God drawing near.

each year as i get older it means more to me. God drawing near. both that God did and how God did. and then given that, that that was our example, the Divine, entering humanity through a pregnant young single mother who birthed him in a barn with out support of a midwife in a night with some shepherds around- likely undesirables - and given who Jesus chose to spend his life hanging around with- that given all that, we the church, have so often gotten it wrong! we have made it about power and money and wearing your best and not letting people see our ugly bits and judging those who aren't doing it 'right'. when we just go back to the beginning, when we remember how God came, Jesus's birth, the humility, the simplicity, that example- i want that to be my starting place. 

because for me the contrast is startling. the emphasis in america on consumption especially during advent, is impressive. but here is this example, this entering of Love into our world, to show a new way for peace and joy, and it has nothing to do with money and buying things. Love enters the world into dirt, to grubby hands, with no running water, to poor people, but is sought after by the wealthy and wise. 

advent calls us to stillness this month because the world is so full of noise. advent calls us to wonder, what child is this ? advent calls us to a holy pause, a holy waiting to see what may unfold as humanity encounters divine.

oh come oh come Immanuel