Just Saying the Loud Part Out Loud

  

Supermoon, November 2025, Thailand

I proclaim your saving acts in the public places;

I do not seal my lips, LORD, as You know.

I do not hide Your righteousness in my heart;

I speak of Your faithfulness and Your saving help.

I do not conceal your love and Your faithfulness

from the public places...

May all who seek You rejoice and be glad in You;

may those who long for Your saving help always say,

"The LORD is great!"

Psalm 40:9-10, 16

I am feeling strongly compelled to join the psalmist this particular night.

New Year's Eve, and so so much to proclaim and speak, and no desire to keep in inside.

The Lord is great, yes He is.  Mysterious and uncontrollable, knowing but not explaining Himself most of the time, but gentle and generous and merciful to me.  

And I just have to say so as the year comes to a close.  Because it's been such a God-filled year, at every turn.  I just seems wrong not to give this voice.

This sentiment is also reflected in a worship song that I believe was new to me this year.  It's title is simple.  "Praise" by Elevation Worship.  I love the energy of it.  And it begins with a repeated refrain, "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord" (from Psalm 50:6).  But this whole idea that we can't help ourselves when we've got something spectacular to say is in the bridge.

"I won't be quiet, my God is alive

So how could I keep it inside?"

And so, dear, dear amazing, beautiful God.  

Where should I begin?  Oh my!

First, thank You for being in charge, and so big, and so wild.

Thank You for all the ways You have shown up for us this past year of 2025.  For the generous gifts of house and home, of warmth and belonging, of safety and health, and for the over and above provision for all our needs.  Thank You for continually teaching me, correcting me, guiding me.  Thank You for all the answered prayer, for all the challenges that drove me deeper, for all the love that sustained me, for every beautiful soul I encountered and learned from.  

With You all things are possible, and that means 2026 is embraced with open arms, no matter what.  

With confidence and anticipation and joy and wonder, 

Yours always,

Me

May your New Year bring so much of life and blessing that it makes you all mushy and expressive too (or at least as much as you care to be).  

Happy 2026 to us all.

Almost

 

There's still bluster in the forecast, but at least the day started with a bit of open sky.  And yet, I remain indoors until a needful follow up appointment for bloodwork, and a quick stop into Shoppers compels me to brace the elements.  But that was the afternoon.

In the morning I did some desk work, mostly because end-of-month reports are due and transparency and accountability should take no holiday.  It's a satisfying task though, giving me a chance to reflect on all that's been accomplished in the past four weeks.  Christmas included but not exclusively, a whole lot happened in December that I and a bunch of others who journey this with me can feel very happy about.  People have been generous with their time, talents and treasures, and it all comes out to a decidedly positive end of year.

Then out for the aforementioned appointment and a short visit to a friend in hospital.  And that's about all I can do for the day.  So glad to get back to the house and snuggle in for another pondering over the puzzle.  Feel compelled to post an update.

There's more glare on this shot because of the extra bits of sunshine earlier.  But it's coming along nicely, still providing the softness and warmth one enjoys best on a wintry afternoon.  

And now it's dark and more snow is supposedly on the way.  And it's all part of the easy way of things as the year draws to a close.  

Saw a meme on Facebook that said something about how hilarious it is to ask folks who are usually in bed by 8:30 what their New Year's plans were.  Yup.  That's us.  Right now it's 6:15 p.m. and we've finished supper and done the dishes and I'm already in my pjs.  Ha!

Stay cozy friends, as you are able.

Blursday on Soft Focus

 

In repentance and rest is your salvation,

in quietness and trust is your strength,

but you would have none of it.

Isaiah 30:15

So.

This pretty much sums up what Ken and I did yesterday.  Just this.

Not quite true.  There were still dishes to do, turkey pies to make, a fridge and freezer to reorganize, and other 'we had a big Christmas dinner here yesterday' stuff to put away.  But after that, a little later in the morning, we set up the small table, poured out the pieces, and just went at it.

There's something so soft about puzzling.  After the all the happy bustle of the season, the lingering over pieces, the sorting out of colours, the little dopamine hit when you find that one piece that finishes off a section; all lays like warm cotton to mute and blend and soften the edges of my conscious self while at the same time bringing me fully present in this simple moment.

It was ironic how, as the picture we were creating came slowly into focus, the rest of the day blurred into irrelevance.  We lost track of time.  Had a late lunch break, but sat down again right away and just stayed with the puzzle.  It being Sunday and us not being at church didn't help.  The whole day just sort of slowly spread out like thick sweet batter in a pan.  Before I knew it it was 3:30 and already starting to get dark.  Wait, what?

We can get disoriented when the regular flow of life is interrupted even by happy things like Christmas.  "Blursday."  Whoever came up with that describes it well.  So this morning, my first thoughts were to regain some sense of order and control.  To - oh I know! Make a list!!  Which is...ooookaaaaay.  But then again, I have determined to take a 'real' holiday this week.  To rest.  To recharge.  To pay attention to my own body and soul, and to do....less.  To avoid the chastening of the last line of Isaiah 30:15.  To maybe blur things a little, and lose myself in something soft like puzzling.  Maybe I'll bring Blursday into a teeny little better focus, but not all the way.

So while I did make a list, it's light.  And 'in pencil'  so maybe a bit smudgy.  And in truth, I'm hoping that the week holds more days of losing track of time softly, letting the edges blur some.  And here's where I often find gratitude grows.  For some reason, in these quite moments, all the blessings of this past year visit me.  

Again with the weather though!  Hope everyone has their power back on by this morning.  Ken and I only saw flickers but otherwise we were fine.  And anyone who is heading back to work this morning, be safe out there.   

Family Christmas Dinner for Ten - Adventures in Small Home Living

 

Well, we did it!  I think.

Yesterday's gathering around a full turkey dinner, complete with the required dessert surplus, marked the official end of Christmas celebrations for Ken and I for this season.

Before I fill in the details, it should be noted that we were and are very much in mind of extended family who could not be with us due to significant health issues that arose in November and seriously changed holiday plans.  We were supposed to be celebrating this event elsewhere with more people, and we definitely felt the lack of all that.  Prayers continue.

And.

Since the idea of not have a proper turkey dinner was unthinkable in our minds, we came up with a plan.  Actually, it started as a question.

Could we find a way to have a sit down dinner for ten in our small home?

Those who've been following along with blogs and such already know that just about a year ago now, Ken and I were handed the keys to our brand new 625 square foot 'additional living unit' on a property in Kitchener we co-own with our son.  Thank you, by the way to those I ran into in various situations over the holidays who asked about it.  Your interest is warming.  And yes, we LOVE it.  Even after a full twelve months of simpler living, we are so comfy and content and very, very glad we made the big move and downsized our living space.  Our son, David, and also Harvest, who live in the house just steps away, have also helped to make this a very successful life-transition, just be being so open and accommodating and patient and relaxed about it all.  

But.

We've never had a sit down dinner.  Mostly because we don't really even have a table.  Just a little breakfast nook with an antique tea trolley that boasts a lifting side leaf.  We've had folks for build-your-own-sandwich lunches.   At Easter we had twelve for buffet desserts.  But never before had we attempted anything sit-down at all, let alone for ten.

Cooking the food wasn't really going to be a challenge, since we had the winning combo of folks bringing desserts with them, and the run of two kitchens.  We bought two smaller turkeys to accommodate our smaller oven, with one cooking next door, and that was plenty.  

In terms of tables and chairs, we asked to borrow two and ten from the church.  We had the china and good silverware stored in the crawl space.  I retrieved the two white table cloths from my daughter.  And I found the little name card holders shaped like Christmas ornaments that have long been part of my Christmas table setting whimsy.  For the most part, it seemed like we were good to go.

Having enough space was still going to be a challenge.  This involved taking apart and removing the large electric recliner, and swinging the couch to against the wall just beside the main entranceway.  Then we would set up the two tables side by side and put the ten tables all around.  At least that was the plan.

First little problem was that the chairs ended up not being available due to an event held by one of the other churches who use Highview's facility.  Never mind, because when we set up the tables there wasn't room for them anyways.  That meant that we needed to use the couch for table sitting, and fetched the folding chairs from the crawl space, something I had wanted to avoid due to esthetic and comfort reasons.  Tying ribbon on the backs of the chairs helped pull the look together though.

Another small thing, and I'm really sure it only mattered to me, was that I couldn't find either my gold napkins rings or the white cloth napkins.  We made due just fine for this year, but I am still hoping they show up in the next little while.  Having said that, there were very few things that I truly lost track of in this big move, and I'm grateful for that.

The table fully set did dominate the room.  Still, we had enough side tables and counter space to hold all the desserts, have a tea and cider station, and serve the food and carve the turkey.  It was just a tad chaotic for about 15 minutes while we did all that, but once the food was all on the table, and we all sat down, things were both cozy and delicious.   The cozy part made us declare that no one could get any bigger or find a significant other to bring to family dinners, both completely unrealistic and not any of our real hopes at all.  The delicious part I can say without any sense of bragging because Ken looks after the turkey, and everyone else brings desserts, like I already said. 

Next challenge:  Clearing away the tables so we have room to open presents.  I have to say, my family did a stellar job of following the instructions, especially since this was a new feature of our Christmas time together.  I honestly didn't know how this would work, so I included in the instructions the note that we were to aim for 'minimal crashing, please.'  It's a small space after all, and there were ten of us, and some of us tend towards the more risk-taking/clumsy side of things.

But in the end, it hardly took ten minutes, and just like that, we had a wide space and no crashing at all.  A few better chairs were brought in from the bedrooms to relax in; we refreshed our tea and cider, exchanged meaningful gifts, and simply enjoyed each other.  

We even took a little trek over to the other house to hear a short performance by Harvest on the double bass to demonstrate the quality and resonance of the new bow received for Christmas.  That kid can play practically any instrument available, it's amazing (yes, I know I'm the Gramma, but honestly!).

The left over mess?  That's normal.  Everyone helped with clearing away the main room, and also by taking home lots of leftovers.  The dishes were a thing.  Our small but mighty dishwasher has been put through a few cycles already, but the bigger items required more hands-on attention.  As I write, the roasting pans are soaking.  We're making various compilations of what is still to go back downstairs.  And despite the aforementioned take-home of leftovers, our fridge is full.  

So did we do it?

I'll admit, it did not feel the same.  But maybe we just need to do it this way a few more times for the goodness of all we do have in the new traditions to seep in a little bit more.  And there is goodness, no question.  To be together, all in one room, marking another year of our family's journey, being just us and that being so enough, being who we are and knowing what we know and loving each other anyways...these are rare and precious moments.  I receive them carefully, respectfully.  

And now begins a string of days with nothing pressing on the calendar.  Today Highview observes a Sunday Sabbath rest, and I for one am very glad for it to end this rather intensive week past.  I've set the 'out of office' notification on my email.  We have a puzzle.  And a few 'organizationally fun' projects on a 'if I feel like it list.'  And of course, more reflections on the year in review as we head to the end of 2025 next Wednesday.  

Bring on the Blursday.  I'm okay with just laying low now for a little while, all cozy here in our still-new, actually-seats-ten-for-a-sit-down-dinner little home.  Sounds like some nasty weather is on the way.  All the better to hunker down in.

God on Christmas Eve

 

In my adult life, Christmas has of course become a season-long celebration.  It's no longer just about 'the Day,' but about all that happens leading up to and even after it.  Oh the carols, both in church and in the malls.  And all the food, yes the sweets.  And the decorating, for me, way in advance, to set the tone for the 'light against the darkness' reflections that will still my soul as the year draws to a close. 

But there remains something 'extra' about Christmas Eve, I think.  Maybe something that has morphed from the childhood frenzied excitement that meant we could barely get to sleep, and all the presents we hoped to be under the tree the next morning, to a more subtle but still deeply anticipatory spiritual state of longing and wonder, representing all the things I still long for.  Belonging, joy, peace, love.  My 'grown up Christmas wish' if you will.  

Yes, there's still that ridiculous expectation on Christmas Eve.

Today, my daughter, in a nod to a family tradition we had when we were all growing up, sent a little meme with a street scene from The Muppets Christmas Carol, and a caption quoting one of the songs, "After all, it's only one more sleep 'til Christmas Day."  And I sang it in my head and felt all the feels.

I want to sit here right now in the longing for it.  In anticipation of what it all represents. 

And as I do, a thought drops in. 

God wanted me.

It stops me short.  Intrudes on where I thought this post was going.  

I imagine God on "Christmas Eve," that first time, waiting for just the right moment.  The holy anticipation.  The divine state of longing and wonder, because...He wanted me.

I mean, isn't that story?  That we celebrate a logic-defying Incarnation that was motivated by God's deep and eternal desire to have us 'with' Him in a way we couldn't accomplish on our own?  That really, what God wanted for Christmas, was....us.  You and me.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son. (John 3:16).

He sits with me in these moments, as if we are all excited and anticipating Christmas Day together.  Maybe I hear Him whisper, "Isn't this exciting?"

Good Gifts of Christmas

 

Of all the plans laid out for this last week of Christmas, yesterday was the one with the most demanding schedule.  Something had to happen on time and in coordination with traffic and other good folks and all in good order starting at 11 a.m. and ending at 10 p.m.  Most of it was out of the house, out and about, and/or at the church.

So waking up this morning with the full stretch of the day ahead was a gift in itself.  

I've answered a few emails, dealt with a few minor details of work which, while not urgent, if left unattended could easily fall between the holiday cracks,  Filed a few important papers in the same category, and 'chatted' back and forth with Thailand a little bit. If something random comes to mind, I have the space to tend to it.  None of it pressing.  Just the kind of morning where it feels maybe like it snowed last night and I'm glad to stay home.  

And that it's almost Christmas.

Reminds me of the beginnings of something by Mary Oliver, entitled simply  "Christmas Poem."

...go to the barn on Christmas Eve and see

what the creatures do as that long night tips over.

Down on their knees they will go, the fire

of an old memory whistling through their minds!

I went.  Wrapped to my eyes against the cold and peered in...

It goes on, and ends well.  But for this moment, I leave it here...in anticipation of Christmas not complete.

In these quieter days I am doing all that I can to embrace and receive, even in the Christmas undertakings that might require something of me.  It's a bit of a balance, this gentle "going to the barn."  But I am grateful for oh so many good gifts that make it vivid, and mindful.  Come to think of it, so many good gifts come at Christmas that have nothing to do with what's under the tree.

Soon enough we'll pack up to head back to the church for the first showing of Let It Be Christmas 2025.  Isn't it great that they still let me part of that crew?

Let it Be Christmas

 

Tonight is dress rehearsal!!!

Love the anticipation of this night, and the two performances on December 23 and 24 at Highview.

A unique retelling that many have come to make their tradition for so many years now.

Also glad to be part of supporting Indwell Supportive Housing in Ontario.

Making room for those who have no place to belong is, after all, an essential part of the Christian story.

Both shows are all booked, sorry.  This year, spots were being reserved as early as October!

Grateful for the travel mercies of our Music Director Derek as he has had to be back and forth to northern Ontario all month, and also our Pastor Erin who also has some treacherous roads to navigate.  But here we all are, safe and sound, or at least very much looking that way.

Let the retelling begin!

Fourth Sunday in Advent - Love

 

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree.

It's not bad at all really.

Maybe it just needs a little Love."

Linus

"Blessed is the season

that engages the whole world

in a conspiracy of Love."

Hamilton Wright Mabie

"He rules the world with truth and grace

And makes the nations prove

The glories of His righteousness

And wonders of His Love."

Joy to the World

"God so loved the world

that He gave His one and only Son,

that whoever believes on Him

should not perish

but have everlasting life."

John 3:16

Enough for Him

 

How is it Friday already?  Come to think of it, how is it the Friday before Christmas already?  Somehow it always surprises me how it all sneaks up on me, even with my intentional choices to slow down and be fully present in the moment throughout Advent. 

Truth is, I have felt the benefits this year.  Everything that should have been done by now has been done.  I'm content and quiet in my spirit, feeling a healthy mixture of joy and sorrow, as the season seems to prompt.  I've had the space to journey with some who are experiencing the darkness life can bring, while holding my own light and gratitude for the deep blessings Christmas 2025 has folded me into.

And now.  It's Friday.  The Friday before Christmas.  And so begins a string of 6 days running with something 'significant' happening every day.  Then one day with nothing.  Then our big family sit-down dinner for ten that we will attempt to have here, in our little house, for the first time.  (More on this later, as I'm sure there will be blog-worthy learnings from this crazy experiment.)

And I signed up for it.  And I've planned for it.  And I have lists for it.  And I love it.  And I'm looking forward to being present in every busy moment of it, pacing myself out so I can still sneak in that afternoon 'just putting my feet up for an hour' thing, and getting to bed at a decent time, or just listening to an old Christmas carol and letting it move me in new ways.  You know, so I can stay content and grateful, and bring that open self into the lovely people spaces of my life.  

And speaking of old Christmas carols...

One I truly love, both in melody and lyric was written by a well-published poet of the times named Christina Georgina Rossetti in the late 1800s.  "In the Bleak Midwinter." Its tune is gentle its words simple, both reflecting the stillness of spirit this season calls us to snuggled down into.

The phrase that caught my heart's attention last night as I was listening was "Enough for Him whom cherubim worship night and day, a breasfful of milk and a mangerful of hay."  Yes...I'm reflecting again on the humility of it.

If you know it, likely you'll hear the tune as you read the verses here.

And with this I wish you a Friday-before-Christmas full of whatever you need it to be.

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone

Snow had fallen, snow on snow,

Snow on snow

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim worship night and day.

A breastful of milk and a mangerful of hay.

Enough for Him, whom angels fall down before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,

but only His mother, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, as poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb.

If I were a wise man I would do my part.

Yet what I can I give Him.

Give my heart.

All I Want for Christmas

 

With the temperatures warming up just a bit this week I confess to a bit of snow-anxiety.  By that I mean I am hoping for a white Christmas, and it would be a shame if all the snow that's already fallen in November and December suddenly left us just when we need it the most.

Not everyone feels this way, I know.  Ken looked out the window just now and joked, "It's above zero.  Why is there still snow?"  He does more shoveling that me, and, come to think of it, does more of the driving in it too, so his sentiments are understandable.  There are lots of 'good' reasons to prefer clear, dry pavement, even at the expense of seasonal ambiance.

No matter.  We're not in control of it at all, and anyway, the forecast for the weekend seems wintery enough.  

This snow thing, plus hearing a lovely, live rendition of Amy Grant's "Grown-Up Christmas List" at an event on Sunday afternoon [check out local artist Anat Hector] has reflecting today on that important practice of 'distilling.'  Google it, and you'll get a varied list of articles, not just about a chemical process, but a mental one.  Either way, it's all about getting right down to the essence of things.  One phrase that comes up is 'elegant simplicity.'  I like that.

So what do I want for Christmas?  Like, really?

I need to pause here, and resist any temptation to wax tritely.  Or make it seem like the cherished traditions of the holidays are merely superficial compared to...(insert profound doctrinal slam down here). I actually think our traditions, preferences, and practices, and whatever else makes Christmas meaningful for us are more deeply woven into our psyches and spirits than we realize, making it harder to sort out the 'true' from the 'counterfeit' or however else we might divide things.

Still, I think it's a good exercise.  And, if I'm being honest, it's during the difficult Christmases that we seem best able to distill things down to their elegant simplicity.  When it's a 'first' Christmas in a sad way.  When life is so distracting you hardly know it's Christmas.  When Christmas is suddenly quieter, smaller, strange.  When things are 'so very different' from last year, that you're starting from scratch to make your own new traditions and ways to celebrate.  

Maybe that's why we always want to come back to the Manger.  Elegant simplicity.  Down to the essence of things.

I am grateful this year for some simpler ways of celebrating in our new little house.  I am grateful for the plans to be together, both with our faith-family and our own little clan.  I am grateful, in that counterintuitive way, for the bitter-sweet missing of another family far away.  I am grateful for God's goodness in the year just past, and for anticipation of adventures in the year to come.  

And yes, it would be a happy thing for me (and a few not-so-random grandchildren I know) if we still had snow for Christmas.  And, like I said, it's looking that way, so...  (Wish I could send some to one little place in Thailand.)

Trusting you are finding your own distilled ways of being, this season.  Especially, and with gentleness, if this is one of those kinds of Christmases for you.

Unintentional Acts of Kindness

 

Leaving the pharmacy after picking up my prescription the other day, I noted a decent-sized hunk of frozen slush just behind the front tire.  You know how that builds up, right?  And if it gets bad enough, and if it gets cold enough (which it was on this day), it can actually interfere with steering.  

Oh the joys of winter driving.

It was odd because I really hadn't noticed it with my previous errands, and hadn't even been driving around all that much.  But there it was.

So before getting in, I took a good kick at it, feeling only slightly remorseful that it would mean leaving a bit of a mess behind once I pulled out of my parking spot.

As I mentioned, it was particularly cold on this particular day.  Wind chills were down around -20C.  So the collection of slush was really quite attached to the wheel well.  My first few whacks did nothing.  I had to turn around and go at it with the heel of my boot.

Now, whenever I do this, I am aware that my lack of precision and finesse in the particular skill of backwards boot kicking, combined with the deep freeze temperatures usually associated with the need for such an awkward maneuver, runs a high risk of damaging the van itself.  It would be a shame to get the slush knocked of successfully only to require some needlessly expensive body work.  

Even so, I was really going at it.  That hunk of slush didn't stand a chance against my violent persistence.  And it was working!  There was that first little break off bit, and then, finally, that satisfying slide-and-smash of all that had built up under the vehicle.  Yes!  And no denting or cracking or any other incidental damage to report.  Yay!

Now to the other side.  But first I thought I'd unlock the door and just put down my purse and little stapled bag of legal drugs.  

And that was when I realized - this wasn't my van.

In my defense, we drive a black Dodge Caravan, as does clearly half the population of K-W.  No joke!  Now that I've mentioned it, you'll notice black vans everywhere, including of course if you happen to be driving one, for which there is at least a 50% chance that you are.  And if you are, if you own one, you know.  Black vans everywhere.

Just like this one parked right next to my van just outside the pharmacy.

Upon realizing my mistake, my first reaction was a quick startled jump backwards, taking my hands OFF the door handle and holding them up in the air.  Then there was the furtive, frightened looking over each shoulder to see if the real owner, or anyone else, had observed anything I had been doing to what I now understood was NOT my property.  

It seemed like no one had witnessed my little show.  The coast, as they say, was clear.  I backed away nonchalantly and pretended like everything was fine, just fine, nothing to see over here, just me heading to my own van which I do own and have the key fob for right here, never mind.  

There were no frozen hunks of slush on my own wheel wells.  On the van that I actually drove there.  But I couldn't help but notice that the other side of the van I had just <ahem> ministered to was in a bad way with it.  More than what I had just mistakenly knocked off.  Oh the temptation to finish the job!

But I didn't.  Just drove away shamelessly, leaving a mess behind in that other black van driver's parking spot, and that big hunk of slush still frozen on the other side.    

And that's it.  Just a little fun story today  Except to say, perhaps, that, by and large, I would recommend intentional acts of kindness, random or otherwise, anonymous or otherwise.  

Probably better that way.

Third Sunday of Advent - Joy

 

Do not be afraid.

I bring you good news

that will cause great joy for all the people.

Today

in the town of David

a Saviour has been born to you;

he is the Messiah, the Lord.

Luke 2:10-11

Joy to the Earth! The Saviour reigns

Let [all], their songs employ

While fields and floods

Rocks, hills and plains

Repeat the sounding Joy!

Joy to the Word - Isaac Wells

To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.

Mark Twain

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,

don't hesitate.

Give in to it.

There are plenty of lives 

and whole towns destroyed

or about to be.

We ware not wise, 

and not very often kind.

And much can never be redeemed.

Still, life has some possibility left.

Perhaps this is its way of fighting back,

that sometimes something happens

better than all the riches or power in the world.

It could be anything,

but very likely you notice it in the instance when love begins.

Anyway,

that's often the case.

Anyway, 

what ever it is,

don't be afraid of its plenty.

Joy is not made to be a crumb.

Mary Oliver

Joy is the serious business of Heaven.

C. S. Lewis

O Tidings of Comfort and Joy

The sky before the storm.

I've got that pre-snow anticipatory mood going on this morning.  It's not supposed to be that much of an accumulation this time, but still.  Enough to make me think through where I might need to be and how I might need to time it out.  And then hunker down and feel just a little bit Christmas-happy, surrounded as I am by all the lights and dangly things and such.  

It's cold out there, for sure, with the sun rising against the mottled layer of clouds all glorious and defiant against the winter.  Or in sync with it.  Either way, it adds to my it's-going-to-be-a-great-day vibe.  

And I say this all from the snug warmth of a new house built with all the latest in heat-preservation technology.  Our insultation is top notch and all the windows brand new and sealed up tight.  All I have to do to catch this shot is step outside for the briefest of moments, then scurry back inside to begin my day all cozy at my desk.  I even have a vanilla candle lit.

Who can possibly survive outside in this?  It's a passing thought, and then.

But people do.

                                                                      CBC News Article

If you live in Kitchener, you know where this is.  And I didn't go down there to take this picture because, well it's cold out, right?  And I'm safe here in my own neighbourhood, right?

But against the red glory of a pre-storm sunrise, I can't help but wonder where Joseph might have had to take Mary if this was Bethlehem instead of Kitchener.  When I drive past the encampment at Vitoria and Weber I think about this.  I don't think there's much difference between being born in a stable and born in an encampment when it comes to the looks of it, the status of it, the scorn of it.

And remarkably, the very thing that makes me want to turn away whenever I drive by, is by the nature of its abject humility, the incarnate truth which brings us all comfort and joy.  That is, that God did this on purpose, was born in a place like this on purpose.   To demonstrate His cosmic plan to upend all that's wrong with the world, turn it on its head, and restore, reclaim and reconcile all He created back to Himself.

"In Bethlehem in Israel this Blessed Babe was born,

and laid within a manger upon this blessed morn,

[To] which his mother Mary did nothing take in scorn,

O tidings of Comfort and Joy

Comfort and Joy

O tiding of Comfort and Joy."

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

Words are cheap, and these are only words.  I've challenged myself to a little experiment that I may or may not write about later.  Depends on how it goes.  For now, let's just say that I've been prompted over the past two weeks to move towards more kingdom integrity in this matter.  Curious to see where it takes me.  

Second Sunday of Advent - Peace

 Then peeled the bells more loud and deep

'God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,

With peace on earth, good will to men.'

Longfellow- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Peace I leave with you;

My peace I give you.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled

and do not be afraid.

Jesus - John 14:27

When the power of love

overcomes the love of power

the world will know peace.

Jimi Hendrix

Do not be anxious about anything,

but in every situation,

by prayer and petition,

with thanksgiving,

present your requests to God.

And the peace of God,

which transcends all understanding,

will guard your hearts

and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Paul - Philippians 4:6-7

"There is no trust more sacred than

the one the world holds with children.

There is no duty more important than

ensuring their rights are respected,

that their welfare is protected,

that their lives are free from fear and want,

and that they grow up in peace."

Kofi Annan

You will keep in perfect peace

those whose minds are steadfast,

because they trust in You.

Isaiah 26:3

A Random Thursday Before Christmas

It's cold out here this morning, in the dark before the sunrise.

It helps wake me up a bit to come out here,

because it's Thursday, and I still have lots on my list 

of all the oh-so-important things I have to do

before Christmas.

It's quiet out here this morning, in the dark before the sunrise.

It helps still my soul a bit to come out here,

because it's December and Advent is upon us,

and competes for space between all the

oh-so-important things I have to do

before Christmas.

But right in this moment, here's some space,

to think,

to pray.

There's some light out here, in the dark before the sunrise.

Which is why we want the things that sparkle this time of year.

To remind us.  

The Light has come.

Even when it's winter,

and December,

and a random Thursday

before Christmas.

And what a gift it is

to have a list of things to do before Christmas.

To carry on as normal,

more or less.

I think about this out here in the dark before sunrise.

And pray for those I care about who are right now overwhelmed.

Or afraid.

Or not at all where they want to be.

Or all three.

Maybe like Mary did, with Joseph, 

that night.

I think Christmas falls on a Thursday this year.

 

December

There's something particularly hushed about early December mornings.

Especially when there's been snow.

Crisp air outside.

Soft lights inside.

The quiet stirs up longings, as I believe the season is meant to do.

December is now arrived, all new and full of expectations.

Or not.

Because...life's like that.

If this is the first Christmas without someone.

Or if it's looking like this might be the last.

Or if the year past has just been so brutal

that these last days of it can't be done soon enough.

But early in the mornings, 

December holds a special hush.

And I stand outside just to breathe the air of it.

And I come inside just to wash in the softness of it.

And whatever else it is, we wait.

Let every heart

prepare Him room.

 

First Sunday of Advent - Hope

 "Faith is confidence in what we hope for

and assurance about what we do not see."

Hebrews 11:1

"The world is indeed full of peril, 

and in it there are many dark places;

but still there is much that is fair,

and though in all land love is now mingled with grief,

it grows perhaps the greater."

Tolkien

"A thrill of HOPE,

the weary world rejoices."

From "O Holy Night"

"May the God of hope fill you

with all joy and peace

as you trust in Him,

so that you may overflow with hope

by the power of the Holy Spirit."

Romans 15:13

There are far, far better things ahead

than any we leave behind.

C. S. Lewis

Winterflex

Photo from December 2024, 

my sister-in-law's fancy downspout, 

all frozen and pretty.

Looking out the window this morning and wondering just how much blow and snow we're in for this weekend.  

I know there's a fair bit of cynicism these days towards the forecasters, especially when they start putting out any numbers above 20 cm.  Most of us go on the 'believe it when I see it' track, since there's been lots of times when we thought something big was on the way and it just didn't pan out to be any kind of dealio at all.  [Note: This is especially disappointing to certain of my grandchildren who relish a snow day.]

Still.  There seems to be a high level of confidence that what's upon us now will be a multi-day event.  That, and other factors I can't pretend to understand but the science sounds reasonable, do give me pause here on the threshold of what was supposed to be a rather full weekend.  Perhaps plans are changing.

Now, if all it meant was I just had to stay home, you wouldn't hear any complaints from me.  Hunkering down in bad weather, especially winter's bad weather, is all kinds of cozy in my books.  Add a Christmas tree and other seasonal ambiance, and I'm all good.  I'll stay in, all safe and contented-like.  No problem.

But this particular snow event is coming on a weekend where people I care about have a long drive that will take them smack through the middle of the weather map's darkest colours.  And it involves a new baby celebration.  And it includes a gathering of like-minded folks seeking to encourage and learn from one another.  And it will likely affect Sunday's worship service.  And all the snow contingencies - let's call that winterflexing - and readjustments and rejigging will cost me something, take time, and require the kind of discerning decisions where people often feel differently about things so you jus can't win.  

Most of the time, it's not so simple just to cancel stuff.

I wonder though, if being Canadian and having learned to live and plan and work around the weather, especially in winter, isn't something of an advantage when navigating other kinds of storms.  It seems there could be transferrable skills that might aid in coping with other sorts of course-changing life events that require a similar kind of winterflex.  Times when you thought you have something all nicely laid out on the calendar or in the strategic plan, so to say, but it ended up the highway was closed due to zero visibility.  Times when you had to make all the phone calls, and rebook all the meetings, and rearrange all the expectations.  Times when you just have to unexpectedly hunker down for a bit until the storm runs its course and the way is clear again.

And I also wonder, if the journey of "being formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (M. Robert Mulholland Jr.), and having learned from the repeated experience of how God's plans and purposes prevail, doesn't also provide something of an advantage when faced with the need to winterflex my life.  Doesn't means I don't chafe at it still.  When the plans being adjusted present instead frightening prospects, or painful realities, or deep loss, it's not so simple just to cancel stuff.  I know.

So here's to all who are thinking things through differently right now, not just because of winter's first wallop, but maybe because life just threw you a curve ball.  And maybe we could all just be a good gift to each other by winterflexing together, offering support and practical help, being chill about any changed plans, and just staying home safe and content if that's truly the best we can do.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

“As an ethnic minority, Jesus didn’t simply care about people who were victims of Rome-sanctioned violence, he was a victim of Rome-sanctioned violence. Jesus didn’t simply care about refugees, Jesus was a refugee. Jesus didn’t simply care about the poor, he was poor.”

Christena Cleaveland

I thought I'd be happier to find my long lost Nativity set.  

I was at first.  When I glimpsed the box with the hand-written label, I said it out loud with decided glee.  "There you are!"  Somehow, even before the move, this small but central piece of our Christmas decor had been hidden away for what seemed like a long, long time.  And then, in all the shuffling of storage options between our initial clearing out of the house (starting with the Christmas bins) and now, when it didn't turn up at all, I guess I sort of expected it was gone for good.

But Sunday afternoon I spotted it, not even in all that hidden of a place, pulled it out, and opened it up.  

Yay!---Oh.

Okay.

I immediately realized how differently I have been reflecting on the Holy Family in these latter years of my life because...this particular Nativity?  It's really....white.

In my defense, this is probably 45 years old by now.  I remember purchasing it, piece by piece, as part of a cosmetic company's sales incentive, back when these characters were quite popular.  Especially in Christian circles, appearing on plaques and cutting boards, often alongside inspirational quotes, and also showing up as figurines, for example, in a Nativity set.  

I'll be honest and say that I liked it well enough back then.  And now I'm remembering that, when the children came along, we swapped this out for a kid-friendly play set, to encourage a more hands-on kind of Christmas.  That's probably when this got put away somewhere.  For a long time.

And in the meanwhile, my own Advent reflections have morphed significantly.  Particularly around the realities of Jesus' human ethnicity, and the fact that, for the first years of His life on earth, He lived as a displaced refugee.  

So this 'very sweet' representation of Jesus' birth isn't going to cut it for me any more.  Not because I want to be perfectionistic or pedantic.  But because there's something deeply theological about understanding the cosmic reset brought to light in the details of the Incarnation, and a blonde-white, porcelain Jesus is the farthest thing from it.  

As Cleaveland articulates above, He on purpose put on the skin and status of the ones He came to restore.  He avoided power and prestige, and put on poverty.  Totally counterintuitive.  Completely upside down.  Like a gigantic cosmic reset.

It seems all the more important this Christmas to remember it.  And while I tend to leave media and news and politics alone in my on line reflections, I will say that it has been very difficult this past year, as a follower of Jesus, to see Christianity attached to policy and procedure that is decidedly unlike Jesus.  

I guess it can be glad that it gives us the chance to take another look at what we've once again allowed to become distorted.  Maybe it will force us to get back to some of the gritty details of our faith, and bring out of the storage bins that which we've turned it into instead, dust it off and set it up and see if it still holds true.

I'm leaving this out for now.  But I do intend to visit the Thrift Shops over the holidays to see if I can find something more authentic.  Yes, I know there are lovely, more realistic renditions on line.  But the irony is that my commitment to the real story of simplicity and poverty makes me all the more determined not to spend the money on such things.  

Especially these such things.

And for what it's worth:

Here's a little musical reflection from Steve Bell called Refugee (from his album "Keening for the Dawn") that helps keep me oriented, especially these days.

Advent is upon us.  

Press in.

 

Body, Mind and Soul: Return Part 3 - Soul

That's the order I come back.  Like that.  Body, mind and soul.

Day 5.

I am finding the happy task of decorating for Christmas to be particularly soulish this year.

Mostly I think this is because I had to skip a season last December when we were still in transition between homes.  It was truly cozy and amazing to have a warm bed and a few familiar Christmas reminders placed gently in the room our son David so beautifully provided for us then.  And...the majority of what counts as Christmas decor, and all that such things represent in terms of provoking tradition and liturgy, was all packed away and lonely in the most bottom corners of the storage unit we had to rent for the duration.  

This year, this first week back, I have been finding such quiet joy in opening boxes, holding up treasured items, and deciding where best they might be placed to enhance our Advent meditations.  And having the opportunity to do this while still reorienting and processing and coaxing my soul back to this side of the planet has somehow added to the hush of it.

I decorate early.  Well, depending on whom you ask.  But early enough.  I am not trying to rush Christmas or push a consumeristic agenda, not at all.  Instead, I find that if I can set up the environment of beautiful, holy waiting sooner than later, I can lessen the stress that inevitably sneaks up on me as the season becomes more robust.  

O Come, O Come Emmanuel.  Come, soul of mine, and be fully here for it.  At least, as fully as I can ever be, living between two loves like I do.  Which is ironic, because...  I wonder if that's how Jesus felt?  Between two worlds like this.

The Christmas decorating isn't quite done yet.  Today I hope to finish.  There does come a time, after all, when all the disruption of the boxes everywhere isn't exciting any more and you just want to clear it away and put on the kettle, and light a candle, and eat Christmas crackle ice cream, and watch the Muppets Christmas Carol.  

It's been a very good first week back.  Yes.  In spite of a heavier dose of jet lag than usual, likely because I couldn't sleep much on the plane on the ride home, or because I also caught a little cold somewhere along the way.  Yes, it's been a very lovely first week back, between two loves, between two homes.  

Grateful.