Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
I just wanted to invite all of you to check out a blog I am starting this year. You are invited to take part in it if you would like.
www.everydaysoup.com
peace
stacey
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
Monday, December 24, 2007
Reflections on Advent Reflections
Happy Christmas Eve! On this last day of Advent, I'm thankful for the chance to journey through Advent with you. Wondering your thoughts on continuing to stay connected in a blog after Advent....
Here are my thoughts: I like this small group and would be happy to continue blogging together, esp if there was a common theme or question to explore together. I loved the focus that the Advent theme gave our reflections, though I also found it a difficult time of year to begin something new because of the high level of chaos around Advent and the end of the semester. And I won't take it personally if you all decide this isn't for you!
Thoughts?
Have a wonderful Christmas!
Callista
Here are my thoughts: I like this small group and would be happy to continue blogging together, esp if there was a common theme or question to explore together. I loved the focus that the Advent theme gave our reflections, though I also found it a difficult time of year to begin something new because of the high level of chaos around Advent and the end of the semester. And I won't take it personally if you all decide this isn't for you!
Thoughts?
Have a wonderful Christmas!
Callista
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Advent Will Carry You, Christmas Will Find You
Yesterday I furiously packed my belongings so they would be ready for my drive from Chicago to Northern Minnesota today. It is anywhere from an 8-10 hour drive depending on the weather and my energy level. I made the decision to not go to church today. If I left at 7:30, I would hopefully get home just as it was getting dark. I didn't want to miss Advent 4, but I wanted to have a safe drive up north. Even if I passed by Advent 4 today, it somehow found me on I-90 and I-94. The wind gusts were nearing 45 miles per hour and there was near white out conditions. At the point that I had counted over 14 cars in the ditch in less than a few miles, I decided that northern minnesota would need to wait another day and I would check myself into a roadside retreat center, aka econolodge. I am grateful that I am safe and warm tonight in a hotel and my car survived this leg of the trip. I realize that Advent was handed to me on a platter today. I was forced to stay put, to wait to travel any further until Christmas Eve. I sit here with hope and gratitude for a little space to let the color return to my knuckles and to relax a bit.
There were a number of hotels just off the highway and I chose my lodging for the night based on the one that shared a parking lot with an eating establishment other than Mcdonalds or Taco Bell.
For dinner I went to the Hearty Platter for dinner. The waitress told me they never close. She acted as if was balmy and sunny outside. And so I sat with four days worth of the Chicago Tribune, catching up on quick pot roast recipes, stories of hope during the holidays, stories of Christmas's past, memorials and tributes to unsung heroes, and movie reviews for the upcoming week. I wasn't up for the turkey or meatloaf resting on two pieces of white bread and smothered in gravy. Instead I went for two eggs and hashbrowns, even though it was 5:30 at night. This waitress seemed more like my grandmother, inviting me in from the cold and making me food at her table than a woman in a burgundy hearty platter uniform. She told me that most places had closed for the evening. I realized then and there that she was like the inn keeper of long ago, who welcomed a young woman and man to take shelter for the night. In the midst of advent coming to me today in the need to stay put until the storm ends, I was being ushered ever closer to Christmas. There was room at the Inn and Hearty Platter tonight.
As I fall off to sleep tonight, more than dreaming of sugar plum fairies or whether I have been bad or good this year, I will be thinking about the way we are invited into Christmas, long before we think we are really ready for it. Long before all the decorations are on the tree and we have all arrived at our destination, (over the river and through the woods......to grandmother's house we go). I give thanks that the incarnation of hope and the divine finds me, even when I need to pull of the road.
There were a number of hotels just off the highway and I chose my lodging for the night based on the one that shared a parking lot with an eating establishment other than Mcdonalds or Taco Bell.
For dinner I went to the Hearty Platter for dinner. The waitress told me they never close. She acted as if was balmy and sunny outside. And so I sat with four days worth of the Chicago Tribune, catching up on quick pot roast recipes, stories of hope during the holidays, stories of Christmas's past, memorials and tributes to unsung heroes, and movie reviews for the upcoming week. I wasn't up for the turkey or meatloaf resting on two pieces of white bread and smothered in gravy. Instead I went for two eggs and hashbrowns, even though it was 5:30 at night. This waitress seemed more like my grandmother, inviting me in from the cold and making me food at her table than a woman in a burgundy hearty platter uniform. She told me that most places had closed for the evening. I realized then and there that she was like the inn keeper of long ago, who welcomed a young woman and man to take shelter for the night. In the midst of advent coming to me today in the need to stay put until the storm ends, I was being ushered ever closer to Christmas. There was room at the Inn and Hearty Platter tonight.
As I fall off to sleep tonight, more than dreaming of sugar plum fairies or whether I have been bad or good this year, I will be thinking about the way we are invited into Christmas, long before we think we are really ready for it. Long before all the decorations are on the tree and we have all arrived at our destination, (over the river and through the woods......to grandmother's house we go). I give thanks that the incarnation of hope and the divine finds me, even when I need to pull of the road.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Solstice
Today is the shortest day of the year. Or, tonight is the longest night of the year. This advent I keep coming back to the theme of darkness, both as something to be feared and as something to be embraced.
Darkness is when we sleep, are renewed and rested. It holds everything without definition, and makes an opportunity for those unknown processes of growth and subconscious change to take hold. Darkness hides us and blurs boundaries.
A hymn to this effect:
Darkness is when we sleep, are renewed and rested. It holds everything without definition, and makes an opportunity for those unknown processes of growth and subconscious change to take hold. Darkness hides us and blurs boundaries.
A hymn to this effect:
Slowly, Slowly the Evening Falls
By Bret Helsa
Slowly, slowly the evening falls ‘til the stars appear.
Slowly, slowly my thoughts unwind. Clouds within me clear.
Slowly, slowly the silence grows like a snowfall piling deep.
Slowly, slowly the darkness calls me to sleep.
Praise the God of the evening, Mother of the fertile dark.
Praise the God of the silence in the void between the stars.
Send your holy shadows. Cover us, oh God of might.
Make us whole and keep us in the womb of the night.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
is there space in your bowl today?
In Jan Richardson's Night Visions book, she has a week devoted to preparing a space. I share with you her reflection on Vessels.
"I measure my life in vessels. They trace the contours of my days. Teacup, bowl, oil, lamp, pitcher, baptismal font. Communion chalice, basin, bathtub. I sleep in the belly of night and wake under a downturned bowl of blue.
I ponder their shapes as I begin to understand my own longing: wanting to be held, fighting against being contained.
Teach me, I say. Tea, food, oil, water, wine, stars, sky. Teach me how to gracefully, powerfully fill my space."
"I measure my life in vessels. They trace the contours of my days. Teacup, bowl, oil, lamp, pitcher, baptismal font. Communion chalice, basin, bathtub. I sleep in the belly of night and wake under a downturned bowl of blue.
I ponder their shapes as I begin to understand my own longing: wanting to be held, fighting against being contained.
Teach me, I say. Tea, food, oil, water, wine, stars, sky. Teach me how to gracefully, powerfully fill my space."
"You hallow us out, God,
so that we may carry you,
and you endlessly fill us
only to be emptied again.
Make smooth our inward spaces
and sturdy,
that we may hold you
with less resistance
and bear you
with deeper grace."
As I reflect on Jan Richardson's devotion, I realize that in this season when many things can fill our calenders, mailboxes and in-boxes, that the place I long to be filled the most is the hallow of my heart, the shared bowls of soup and mugs of tea with loved ones. I walk towards the font, longing to be reminded that I am a child of God. Perhaps this is why I don't fold my hands when I pray, rather, I cup my hands, as a bowl ready to receive God's presence and grace.
What vessels hold you in this season?
Monday, December 17, 2007
The Sprouting Seed
How long do those seeds that are planted linger in the ground before pressing through what tries to choke them?
There is a new woman at church who identifies herself as a new Christian.
She is hungry to know the Word and the Rules, so she comes to worship and to Bible study. How did she find our little brick church on the hill?
She came once for a wedding, but that wasn't it.
It was the bartender at a grille that closed at least four years ago. She remembered that he came to the church.
That was my brother James. He'd come to the Saturday evening service to have Communion before he went to work.
A casual statement toward a woman he didn't know. Now she joins hands in prayer and testifies of transformation.
Now I call James "The Apostle."
There is a new woman at church who identifies herself as a new Christian.
She is hungry to know the Word and the Rules, so she comes to worship and to Bible study. How did she find our little brick church on the hill?
She came once for a wedding, but that wasn't it.
It was the bartender at a grille that closed at least four years ago. She remembered that he came to the church.
That was my brother James. He'd come to the Saturday evening service to have Communion before he went to work.
A casual statement toward a woman he didn't know. Now she joins hands in prayer and testifies of transformation.
Now I call James "The Apostle."
Be Still & Know?
Thinking it would be quiet, I came back to my apartment this afternoon to work on Sunday's sermon. It's hard for me to write in my office - too many interruptions and distractions, and I needed some space from the anxiety hanging in the air on students' first day of final exams. Instead of quiet, I came home to find that my neighbor is blaring his music. He's usually really quiet, and since he's a medical resident specializing in brain surgery, he's allowed whatever stress outlets he needs. But of all the days... There's also a descant of kids screaming outside as they sled on the new layer of icy snow that fell yesterday.
After a moment of being annoyed, I realized that this noise might be really helpful to any sermonizing that might happen today. Instead of the stressful, hushed quiet of students studying for finals that surrounded me in the office, these are the sounds of play. I've been taking myself and my work entirely too seriously. I spent the last 2 days with my two-year-old nephew and was reminded how to play. So bring on the noise. And maybe I'll get some writing done... someday!
After a moment of being annoyed, I realized that this noise might be really helpful to any sermonizing that might happen today. Instead of the stressful, hushed quiet of students studying for finals that surrounded me in the office, these are the sounds of play. I've been taking myself and my work entirely too seriously. I spent the last 2 days with my two-year-old nephew and was reminded how to play. So bring on the noise. And maybe I'll get some writing done... someday!
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