Vulnerable

i keep trying to convince myself that this time of year isn't hard and by acknowledging and understanding that it is a challenge, things might get a little easier. easier? no. different? probably. more transparent? definitely.

i am uninspired by christmas - by giving - by shopping or thinking of things to be inspired by. i am inspired by twinkling lights in the dark of night. by solitary walks. by offbeat christmas songs. i am inspired by those with the vulnerability to state their grief over the loss of loved ones and dashed dreams. i am inspired by the quirky characters who find rest and joy only at this time of year. in this moment, i am uninspired by my life which so many find inspiring. i have two children that make me scream, WTF? my husband adores me and he's out of town. i meant to bake this year - to decorate - to fill my house with holiday soirees. it has not happened and will not, because i am uninspired.

please know i am not depressed or in need of medical attention. i am a member of the human race who finds this time of year confusing. it is confusing and empty in lots of regards. "they" say it should be joyous and filled with light. it is the darkest time of year—literally. the question of "will your family be all together for the holiday?" brought tears to my eyes this morning, because we will not. a book i've dreamed of for years is nearing the final stages. it is my current delight and it is harder than hell to finish...so many details. my urge for perfection rises to the top... and it is my saving grace. i can quietly sit for hours and edit comments... incorporating words and shaping them into the song of my own making. i am grateful for those simple moments.

i wish i were full of good cheer today. i'd like to say the cards and packages are in the mail, the cookies are baked and the presents wrapped... maybe later... perhaps i'll be inspired next year.

Faith in the Night

But darkness holds it all:
the shape and the flame,
the animal and myself,
how it holds them,
all powers, all sight –

and it is possible: its great strength
is breaking into my body.

I have faith in the night.

(excerpted from You Darkness, Rainer Maria Rilke translated by David Whyte)

I have faith in the night – the place where dreams meet and manifest. The flowing stream of wisdom, love and consciousness that drifts within and without me. Writing verse and prose...protection and protest...dreams and daring—all within the night.

I have faith that my book, As I Lay Pondering*, is happening—one step at a time. It sometimes moves at a snail’s sluggish pace and other stages burst forward with leaps of bravado and boldness.

I have faith in my life – that it is happening just as it should – could – would – is. Yes, just as it is.

*more details coming soon!!!!

For too many days...

For too many days I have not written of what stirs my soul. I have not confessed to the simple pleasures that make up my days. Things like… The soft fur of my golden cat as he greets me with his purring ballet. Sweet whispers and the tender touch of my beloved. Crisp winter air on my skin as daylight meets dark. Luminaries surrounding the lake. Laughter of friends mixed with the jingle of Christmas bells and off-key carols. Twinkling lights amidst the smell of freshly cut evergreen. Gastronomical delights like chicken and waffles turned into art and fat luscious noodles from Tommy’s kitchen. My daughter sleeping safely in her bed. The joy of my sister as she creates her art. Magic and mystery. Music. Dance. Delight.

For too many days now I have not written of what darkens my heart. Frigid rain that persists and chills me to the core. An empty space beside me. Silent friendships and those gone stale. My child in a cold stone cell. Unanswered messages. Aimless thoughts. Hunger and starvation. Loneliness and longing.

For too many days now I haven’t written of Hope, the candle that leads my way – not like birthday flames on a resplendent cake, but rather the single shimmer in the darkest night. Hope in the midst of sorrow. Hope that stirs the pot of joy buried deep within my belly. Hope that gets me out of bed on the gloomiest days, and Hope that leads me like a floodlight on stage when I follow my true passion.

For too many days I have not written of this season that stirs my soul in a multitude of ways. This season of darkness. This season of Hope. In this glorious season may we each reach for peace within and goodwill toward all. May our souls be stirred with delight alongside the acknowledgement of darkness. May we come to know that Hope abides in all who choose to truly live.

For too many days I have not… How might you respond?

photo © KSH - Santa Fe Tree

My Advent Prayer

Allow me to see the face of this day
Let me enter into each space with intention
Crossing the Holy thresholds
Touching the Ancient stones

Let me enter into each space with intention
Do not allow me to cloud my own vision
Touching the Ancient stones
I will be the face of this day

Do not allow me to cloud my own vision
Crossing the Holy thresholds
I will be the face of this day
Allow me to see the precious face of this day

© Kayce Stevens Hughlett

A Winding Journey

As I read today's Advent reflection from Birthing the Holy including a poem by Linda Hogan*, I was reminded of a SoulCollage® card I created awhile back. Pulling it out, I began to write and noticed the weavings of this season begin to take shape and offer me this message:

I am one who stands at the threshold.
The cave of death surrounds me - death to past.
The Ancient bones beckon me and tell me to follow my dreams. I am in good company.
If I will raise my eyes to the heavens, I will see the light ahead.

It has been a winding journey - and will continue to be,
but the Ancients are with me and the river is flowing -
"It doesn't look back to where it's been or wonder who ahead of it has polished the rough stones.
It is following the path in its fullness"*
And it's time for me to do the same.

Don't look back.
Raise your eyes and see the expanse before you.
The Ancients are with you. God is with you.
Lift your eyes to the heavens -
to new life.

Kooky Space

Advent has begun. I find myself in a kooky space - in a place of expansion and community AND in a time when I am called to simply Be. There's my word again, BE... BEE... The bee is a long-time symbol of accomplishing the impossible. How does one wait in the darkness and shine in the heavens... simultaneously?

I'm called to be in community and I'm called to be in contemplation. I'm called to shine and I long to sit in the darkness - waiting in the shadows - percolating - ripening in the womb. Yes, Advent carries a theme of birthing. Does not the fetus ripen within the womb? Did not Mary say, "Yes" and then wait? We wait. I wait.

Retreat, Relax, Respond TODAY!!!

Registration for the Online Advent Retreat ends tomorrow!



Birthing the Holy: An Online Creative Journey through Advent and Christmas
November 28, 2010 - January 9, 2011
Program fee of $125 includes weekly reflections and daily emails by Christine Paintner on six themes of the creative journey, plus 10 songs by River's Voice, guided movement prayer videos by Betsey Beckman and her storydance of the Annunciation, and guided SoulCollage® experiences with Kayce Stevens Hughlett.

What good is it to me if Mary gave birth to the Son of God fourteen hundred years ago and I do not also give birth to the Son of God in my time and in my culture? We are all meant to be Mothers of God.
-Meister Eckhart (15^th century German mystic)

Each of us is called to participate in bringing God to birth in the world. We each hear our own annunciations and invitations to enflesh the sacred creative call of our hearts in service to others. The seasons of Advent and Christmas invite us into a profound reflection on this invitation and the movement toward birthing as well as offer us archetypal themes that call us to take our creativity seriously.

Do you long to make the seasons of Advent and Christmas a more meaningful time of prayer and reflection?

Do you want to make space to listen to your deepest call in this season of birthing?

Join me along with some very special guest teachers, musicians, dancers, and artists, for a six-week creative online journey into the heart of the Advent and Christmas seasons. Through movement, music, visual expression, poetry, and prayer you will be guided in reflection on six themes of the creative journey. Make a commitment to a retreat in everyday life and let this winter be a journey of transformation. Begin the New Year from a place of deep reflection and intention.

Saturday, November 27th is the last day to register!

I'm Joining the Abbey for Advent!

Fall has settled nicely into the Pacific Northwest and with that our thoughts begin to turn toward the holidays. It is with great pleasure and excitement that I announce my newest collaboration with Abbey of the Arts. For those of you near and far, here's an opportunity to enter into the season of Advent alongside me and a host of inspirational artists. I invite you to peruse the following information and consider giving yourself this gift of online retreat.



Early Registration is now open for Abbey online classes!

Birthing the Holy: An Online Creative Journey through Advent and Christmas
November 28, 2010 – January 9, 2011
Program fee of $125 includes weekly reflections and daily emails by Christine Valters Paintner on six themes of the creative journey, plus 10 songs by River's Voice, guided movement prayer videos by Betsey Beckman and her storydance of the Annunciation, and facilitated SoulCollage® experiences with Kayce Stevens Hughlett (aka lucy).

Join us for a six-week online retreat in everyday life for the seasons of Advent and Christmas. Let this winter be a transformative journey of deepened commitment to your creative practice.

Pre-register before November 1st and receive a free copy of Crossing the Threshold: New Year, New Beginnings.

Click HERE for more information and to register. Hope to see you there!!!

A Letter to Mary

Today is not only the beginning of the New Year, a new decade even, but also the feast day of St. Mary, Mother of Jesus. Mary has been with me more than ever through this holiday season and several times I have attempted to write a post in her honor – really in honor of all mothers. So, it only seems fitting that today before I step fully into 2010, announce my word for the year, or recap 2009, Mary deserves her day.

How fitting that a mother would have to share her feast day with one of the most unavoidable holidays of the year. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not, we have entered a new year and it affects us all in one way or another. So by sharing this day, Mary has most often gone unnoticed, as mothers are prone to do.

“But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19

Mary was a ponderer. (I love that!) She bore the Son. She bore God. She bore MUCH! How much must I as a mother be called to bear? My own mother used to say, “There is nothing that can compare with the love a mother has for her child.” The range of emotions is huge and even if we aren’t mothers, we all had one! And, so I write to this ancient mother for my own peace of mind.

Dear Mary -

What was it like to be the mother of a perfect child? Were you without worry? I think not. Both you and he were human, after all. How did you hold up, Mary? How did you bear all that God gave you? Your “yes” was only the beginning. Your years had to be excruciating. Consider the weirdness following his birth – all those strangers showing up with extravagant gifts while you hung out in a dirty stable. The flight to Egypt as Herod threatened to kill your only son.

And those middle years – what happened then? Was Jesus ever rowdy as a boy? Was he arrogant as a teenager? Your mother’s worry had to be huge. Did you hover and overfeed him? Did you try to encourage him to eat his vegetables and study his Hebrew? Did you tell him to be careful when he went out at night? Even your mother’s love was not enough to save his life. You had to stand by and watch him be crucified to death. How did you handle that? How helpless you must have felt!

Mary, you have been with me this season. I am grateful for your presence. You offer me hope and I will carry you with me into this New Year.


Today’s Advent reading ends with … “this was the Mary whose soul was pierced by a sword.”

No matter who your kid is, being a mother is a really tough job – one that pierces in more ways anyone can imagine. Today I honor Mary and all the mothers of the world – Saints or not ☺. Won't you join me?

For another wonderful view of Mary, pop on over to the Mind Sieve.

photo © lucy - paris, 2008

The Ripple Effect - Part two

There is lots of wrestling going on in my brain and body these days – imagine that?!? Yesterday was a self- proclaimed, self-care day. I visited my chiropractor, my spiritual director and my hairdresser. I snuck in a quick nap with Aslan purring on my chest, then headed to a client meeting and after to the local, highly acclaimed, hard-to-get-into pizza place, Delancey, for dinner with my husband and daughter. When a friend called in the afternoon to ask how I was, I proclaimed, “Today was a good day.”

I struggle with not wanting too quickly to put the cherry on top of this crazy ice cream sundae called life. I have really wanted to be pissed off at God for the last couple of days, but God’s pursuit of me is making it really difficult. My spiritual director and I talked about this quite a bit yesterday. She suggested that perhaps my long-ingrained anthropomorphic view of God is finally starting to disappear. I want to be angry at some controlling guy in the sky who pulls the strings and makes things happen for better or worse. Instead I am being greeted by scripture that sings of the earth holding me and I hear and feel the love of Jesus in the comforting words of supportive bloggers, beautiful voices uplifted in song, a purring cat, the glorious sunshine and “random” other places.

My spiritual companion and I also talked about songs of lament and how the Psalms are filled with them. They have their own rhythm of wailing and crying out to God while ultimately coming to a place of hope or rest. It is a pattern I have experienced myself in writing or verbally processing. By exhausting the dialogue in my head (the rants & raves & miscellaneous thoughts I might not dare to share out loud), I usually find I come to a place of peace – not necessarily resolution. There is a difference!

Most of my last post came through stream of consciousness journaling. Not wanting to rush to a place of calm waters, (because I needed to feel and share the tumultuous rhythm) I drew short of sharing where my lament finally landed. After a couple of days to let it settle, I wanted to share it now:

…and then the ocean returned to its smooth placid existence in the cove along the deserted beach. The gentle ripples returning & spreading out to sea. The same water now touching another on a far away shore. Interconnected.

Who can assess the ripple effect of one tear poured into an ocean? One drip pounding subtlely time and time again until rock has been eroded. Perhaps my love, my tears, are the drip that will erode the heart of stone. My own? Another’s? Who knows?

It’s ok to sit in the mystery. My world has been rocked. I sit in Advent and wait. I know not for what. Redemption? Reconciliaton?

Thank you for waiting alongside me. Your ripples wash over me like fresh rain drops. I am soothed and comforted knowing I am held in this gentle embrace.

What are you waiting for this Advent season? Are you willing to wrestle with the echoes of your own mind? Are you content to rest without knowing what will come next? Are you aware of the gentle ripples touching your days? Advent is a season about being awake. Might you find a new way to open your eyes?

photos ©lucy - glendolough 10.09

The Ripple Effect

“…I know in my bones the ache to find the words, I know, as well, the ache of uncertainty about which words.” --Scott Cairns

Since my return from Ireland on October 26, I have been struggling with this “which” of words. On the heels of one of my most incredible life experiences, I was greeted only moments after arrival in Seattle with the news that my beloved beautiful boy was in jail, charged with a very serious offense. Needless to say, I was (and am) devastated.

In both events (Ireland & 'the news'), my world has been rocked. I sit and wait during this season of Advent to see where the ripples might land. Can that be enough? Yes – for me, for now – the waiting must be enough. Still…I ache to find the words, so today I share a few regarding “the crime.”


I am ever so grateful no one was physically harmed – no death – no hospitalizations – no rape. But, laws were broken. Stupid, careless, foolish mistakes were made and now a young life – my son’s – will be imprisoned for as many as four years. They say it could have been much worse – 15 years or more. Can I be grateful? Perhaps later.

No one was physically harmed… the words linger and I am struck with the ripple effect, because the emotional toll is high. I can’t begin to process the damage for myself, so how can I weigh the cost to the rest of my family or anyone else? The ripple is high. It is exhausting. Like the waves of the ocean, even the gentle ones leave me with a queasy feeling if I stand or float in them too long. And, then there are the rogue waves that come out of nowhere and pick you up and thrash you to the ocean floor where all equilibrium is lost. Which way is up? Where is the bottom?

I once danced with a rogue wave in Hawaii. Even after I was safely out of the water and had survived the experience, I could not accurately assess the damage. Removing my swimsuit, the sand came out of nooks and crannies I didn’t know existed – little grains of evidence that the wave had had its way with me. Later, I walked by a mirror after showering and caught sight of a giant bruise disguised as an enormous eggplant tattooed on my butt. I don’t remember how long it took before I could sit comfortably again or when the ugly mark finally faded away.

Today, I have more questions than answers – many of them surrounding this season of Advent, as well as the circumstances of my life. It’s odd, but there is a simple peace in knowing that today waiting can be enough. I am grateful for this space. I have struggled with the words and will continue to do so. Your loving witness alongside makes the waiting a little easier.

Blessings to you and yours.

bermuda waves ©h3images.com

the "irrational season"

This is the irrational season
when love blooms bright and wild.
Had Mary been filled with reason
there’d have been no room for the child.

--Madeleine L'engle
(found at Abbey of the Arts)

musings on a winter day

Winter
Snowy Brilliance
Cocooning. Holding. Birthing.
Bringing me new life.
Solstice

It is like a white cloak of peace and contentment have settled over my neighborhood. The snow continues and I am at rest snuggled warmly inside my cozy house. Looking out the window at the snow covered branches, I think of the new birth that awaits within - the bud of spring wrapped cozily inside the thick branches. How does the new life form within? I ask the same of myself. My advent reading this morning offered this: "As with pregnancy, so with our spiritual lives: the thing anticipated is already forming within us". It must be the same for the new leaves that patiently await bursting forth in spring.

I wonder about birth - about resurrection - the pointing toward Christ and new life. What of the centuries of civilizations and ancient myths that are wrapped around life - death - rebirth? What of the winter of our souls? Wrapped in darkness and often cold? How many will not make it to spring? The branches that will break off in the storm never to sprout fresh again?

I think of my life - my fading beauty. I am past the spring & yes even the summer of my life. How can that be? Where did the time go? I am encouraged, however, as I think of myself as Fall now - ablaze in color of golden and crimson leaves - set apart from mundane shades of green. There is beauty everywhere. My favorite season has always been summer yet even my favorite has its downside. Summer can be so harsh and the hot sun burns the colors to a crisp.

Today, however, I sit wrapped in winter. It is dark and white and I am loving it. The lighting of candles. The warmth of handmade quilts snuggled around me. The chill of my nose and the pink of my cheeks - frosted not burned. Today I think of Mary, mother of Jesus, saying yes to God. I am reminded of my own moments of God-radiance when I have said yes - overpowered by the brilliance of God - like the winter landscape wrapped in white splendor. My heart longs for that brilliance and new birth AND my heart is content. Today I am grateful to be alive with awareness of each moment - each season of life.

What is the season of your life? Do peace and contentment envelop you as Christmas steadily approaches? Or are you harried and worn out waiting for the season to come to an end?

I wish you peace & contentment and your own special warmth!

photos taken this morning & the snow continues! for more "december views", check out lucy creates!!!

more birthing going on...

Sometimes "once" is enough to get my attention and other times I have no idea how often something must be put in front of me before I notice. This time I think it was two times...maybe three. Yesterday, I read Abbey of the Arts reflection on the darkness with this poem by David Whyte. I recalled that I had seen the poem before and found that I actually had used it to write my own version. (Original post is here.)

Commenting at the Abbey, I enjoyed that little piece of serendipity. And then this morning "#2" (or is it 3?) appeared while I was visiting Zena Moon where she has another lovely poem by David Whyte posted. Hmmmm. I then noticed something in her side bar called "Women at Rest", clicked on it and voila, there was "Sweet Darkness" yet again.

So, as I sit this morning pondering not necessarily the darkness, but rather the sweet white snow falling outside my window, I offer you my words on Sweet Darkness. I am still pondering why...however, I don't really need to know the why of it, do I? Enjoy!

In Praise of Sweet Darkness

The dank, moist smell of a cave.
The skin of a snake molting away.
The rich loam of life.
Time to go into the dark where the night has eyes to recognize its own.

A mother’s womb.
One mustard seed of hope.
The blood of crucifixion.
There you can be sure you are not beyond love…

Holding & sustaining.
Nurturing & growing.
Rising from the dead.
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn

Birth moving into new life.
The oak rising from an acorn.
Darkness giving way to light.
Anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you.

photo by lucy 12.18.08

Goddess

The December Reflection by Marlene Marburg

Goddess poem

Go inside the poem
Feel the warmth, the
roomy safety. Feel her
boundaries yield, stretch
to accommodate your flips
and turns, your struggle to
find the comfy space, the
just-right holding. Listen to
sounds familiar and muffled,
and rounded lullaby rhythms
growing inside you, nurturing
your voice, your claim to be
heard, to be silent. Go inside
the poem. Feel your body
move with fear and love,
retrieving the slippery
traces in the poem
you know, the
poem we all
know.

found @ "Membership Moments" Spiritual Directors International

birthing God

One might think my Advent practice has slipped away due to the lack of exposure given here. Au contraire. The practice is deep, wide, broad and growing. My belly, mind and heart swelling with insight and growth. I ponder how to convey the multitude of ways God is working on me. Layers and layers.

“We are bringing God to birth, bringing love to earth.” (written by Betsy Beckman). These words awakened me yesterday morning (actually it was still pre-dawn). Images of God running through my head. The pregnant belly on my Soul Collage card that I created on Saturday around the theme of nurturing the Christ within. This image spoke to me as the child/God kissing my belly in gratitude. Thanking me for “bringing God to birth.”

Sunday night another word from my Advent reading. Luci Shaw writes, “we, too, are pregnant with Christ…day by day we are being enlarged.” Somehow the words 'already and not yet' enter my mind. How do we wait patiently without wasting the time we are given? Missing the present while living in the future? How will I choose to live in the present while waiting for Christ to come? Why do I wait for someone who is already here? There is that beautiful paradox of God: light in darkness, presence in absence, fulfillment in the midst of longing.

The word “present” triggers my lackadaisical response to enter into the commercial experience of Christmas and the frenzy over present buying and receiving. I know others, too, struggle with how to honor this season. We want it to be magical and for some reason it can produce resentment and/or a sense that something is “wrong” if we cannot respond as the world around us expects.

My desire is to focus on the real meaning of Christmas, but I don’t even know what that is. Birthing Christ? Waiting? Celebration & Joy? Christmas tree & decorations? The crazy thing is that I feel quite content and settled in most respects. I am loving my time and focus this season. I have still produced no twinkling lights or Christmas tree or even Poinsettia. I have lit many, many candles and listened to beautiful classical music. I have danced in the snow and driven down Candy Cane lane. I have spent cherished time with friends. I have warmed my home with soup on the stove. I have nurtured God within. Hmmmm…maybe I know more about this holiday season than I suspected ☺.

So, I would love to hear from you. Your words and thoughts are always an inspiration and delight to me. Blessings and peace.

P.S. I’m on my way to have lunch now with my beautiful son who I physically birthed into this world ☺.

collage by lucy 12.13.08

how do you define busy?

Since the contemplative retreat, the hours of the day have taken on a new feeling for me. I haven’t quite pinned it down, and don’t imagine that I will anytime soon. However, I am more conscious of the rhythms of the day and I find myself wondering how much I let them control me and how much I try to control them. One of my questions for the day was: “are you a chameleon--bending to my whim & demand?” My sense has been that day is chaotic, busy and it travels by too quickly. Is that true or is it my attitude…my whim? Day seems to be the point in time where I have been called to be most productive…at least in the world’s sense of the term.

I recently had a discussion with a friend regarding the word “busy”. We both have a strong reaction to it. I find myself really bucking up against it particularly during this holiday season. Everyone thinks you must be so busy. What in the world does that even mean? My hope and goal is to redefine what ‘busy’ means – at least for me. I am not sure if anyone else would care to join me, but what if instead of rushing from the next appointment or worrying about shopping for the perfect gift or doing any number of things that totally stress you out, busy looked something like this:

• Sleeping a little later than usual and tending to your dreams. Feeling your body gently awaken in bed and noticing the stretch of your limbs and spine as they awaken.
• Choosing to stay home in the evening and have soup and salad with your loved ones rather than rushing out the door for the next Christmas concert. Being busy with conversation and laughter rather than herding around with crowds.
• Pausing in the middle of the day to read a novel and take a nap. Busying yourself with restorative yoga and moments with God.
• Instead of giving into the huge to do list by your side, opting for a few moments of silence and an Advent reading at noon, because you slept a little later in the morning. ☺

What if busy looked like intentional movement and choice throughout the day? If we controlled busy rather than letting busy control us? What if we actually enjoyed this holiday season and took some time to wait as the Advent tradition suggests? What if busy looked like smiling at our neighbor, intently listening to the words of a holiday carol or simply watching the lights twinkle on the Christmas tree (perhaps a tree that someone else bought & decorated)? How might you change if you redefined busy? How might the world feel different?

advent retreat

Wow! This "37 day Advent season" is already rich beyond words and I am only three days into it. I have attempted several times to put into coherent words what has been happening over the last few days and alas I continue to end up somewhat speechless.

Some themes that continue to emerge are: light & darkness; vessels; brokenness; holding sorrow; woundedness & healing…God with us.

God’s love and guiding hand continue to amaze and surprise me beyond comprehension. One example is that several months ago I signed up for a Contemplative Retreat and it begins today. While I am certain that the retreat was planned with Advent in mind, it never occurred to me until the date came nearer.

And so, I am off for a few days to experience…who knows what? The program includes art-making, yoga, praying the hours and lots of ‘space’ in a beautiful setting. I am awed by God’s graciousness.

I will be leaving my computer at home and will return here Sunday at the earliest. In the meantime, I hope you will visit lucy creates where I have pre-dated a few images to continue “december views” in my absence.

Peace.

“Forbid that we should stumble through this day oblivious to the wonder in the ordinary.”

from God with Us

collage by lucy 12.03.08

welcoming advent - day 1

“Give us, we pray, the grace to surrender to being found.”
--Richard John Neuhaus

I have had a wild morning with God. I wish I had the gift that my friend, Tess, has of putting together lots of details into a formative description ☺. I shall, however, try because it feels too important and too crazy (or wild) to not record this. I have to tell you though that stuff like this happens to me all of the time. Does that sound arrogant? Does that sound like I am special? Oh wait, I have gotten ahead of myself, have I not?

So, as you can see by looking at my new bookshelf in the sidebar, I have quite a few books that I currently have open next to my bedside. I used to be a serial reader and could/would only read one book at a time, cover to cover and then, of course, count the pages and record my accomplishment. (Can you see the performance seeking perfectionist pop through there?) Anyway, I have ceased to use that method and now find myself in the midst of all sorts of knowledge (which I love), but the main problem becomes remembering where I read something!! This post as much as anything is an attempt to record the events of the last few hours and how they have come to be my Advent focus.

Last night I finished my first read of Patti Digh’s “life is a verb” and was left with this challenge:

“What, if you did it consistently for thirty-seven days (and perhaps beyond), would create positive vibes, intentional joy, good karma, fantastic direction, and deep expansiveness in your life?...Whatever it is, however small, do it. Decide on It, the Thing You Will Do. And then, do it.”

I also decided to jump ahead and read the first day of Advent readings from “God with Us.” Here is the primary thought that I underlined :

“The great question is not whether we have found God but whether we have found ourselves being found by God.”

This morning I awoke quite early (not really my personal decision ☺) and chose to quietly read another chapter in Christine Paintner’s, “Lectio Divina” and this is what greeted me:

“Awareness of God, at its deepest level, is not so much something we do as something we are.” --William Shannon
The chapter was on 'Contemplative Awakening and Awareness' and ultimately I found myself entering into centering prayer which "Lectio Divina" points out is “a method designed to facilitate the development of contemplative prayer by preparing our faculties to receive this gift…It is at the same time a relationship with God and a discipline to foster that relationship.”

As this post is already becoming a bit long, I will simply say my 20 minutes of centering prayer were definitely in kairos (qualitative) time versus the clock watching of chronos. It was a special time of “being” rather than “doing.” It was a time where I “found myself found by God.”

And so, upon reflection I realized that all of these little hints had been working together to offer me my discipline of Advent (which I did not even know I was looking for ☺.) And here, it is: for the next 37 days I am choosing to give myself the gift of 20 minutes of centering prayer each day. Now, here is where things get really cool. Today is November 30. There are 31 days in December and The Feast of Epiphany (the final feast day of Christmas) is on January 6—roughly speaking 37 days!!! How awesome is that?!??!?

I look forward to sharing this continuing journey with you, but mainly I look forward to the ways that I know God will surprise me (or not…I am holding lightly to expectations) over this 37 day Advent season.

Oh, I have to share one last little piece: the music. Yesterday while reading People (I’m not a spiritual diva by any means ☺), the recommendation for Enya’s “And winter came” jumped out at me. While I have been writing, I downloaded it. I was not surprised to see that the first song is “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.” Can’t wait to see what else is on there!!

There you have it – my Advent beginning. What will yours be? Will you allow yourself space to be found by God? What is the gift you will give to you? How will you surrender for the next 37 days?

early morning musings

I write to live - anything less is death.

The human heart carries so much pain. It’s capacity for joy is unlimited. We shield ourselves from ourselves. We try to hide from god. Our pain runs deep like hidden riverbeds beneath rock surfaces. We become brittle until we break or explode or implode. Without meter or rhyme, we forge on never knowing if tears or laughter will burst forth. It is tenuous—this life. To embrace the moments. To feel the depth and agony of pain while soaking in a perfumed tub. To experience gales of belly laughs while playing a silly game. To fill my stomach full to bursting with too much wonderful food. To know the ache of my head from stress and a little excess wine.

The capacity of the body is immense. The capacity of the heart – infinite. Just when we think it will break, joy emerges from the ashes. How? Why? I do not know. It is grace. The grace of God. Learned. Given. Received. I do not understand this God. This life. I need to feel it. I need to share it. This depth. This groundedness that I do not understand. The both/and. Not either/or. I am not sad or happy. I am both. I am filled with delight AND terror & grief. Both/and. I don’t understand yet I know it to be true. I have been described as Full. Full of shit—maybe…sometimes. I am also full of Love. Delight. Laughter. And a capacity to not only endure, but also Live a life that others might shrink from or shut down & back away.

My capacity is immense. My pendulum swings far and wide. The depths sink beyond comprehension. The word from the Lord says, “Others would have given up long ago. I chose you for this life. You will dare to stay there. You will dare to risk life. You will give your life to live it.” I would not trade this life for any other. Nope, this one is mine. I might, however, trade a few moments ☺. My tapestry is rich. I do not understand it and I do not have to understand. When I come to this still place—I Know. Pure and simple.

Lead me into Advent, Lord. Let me celebrate the incarnation. It is life. New birth. It leads to death and resurrection. Let me celebrate all of it. It is the gospel. It is the cycle of life. Birth. Death. Resurrection. Over and over and over again. The capacity of the body is immense. The capacity of the heart – infinite.


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