Inconvenience and Whining

 This fourth Sunday of Advent fell in a weekend of difficulties, frustrations, and inconveniences. Just the sorts of things that feel like irritating stones thrown into your path, one after another, by God who is trying to do something ... and you're not sure what. 

I said I would not careen into Christmas, but this fourth Sunday of Advent does put that intention to the test. Our Lessons and Carols service at church was at 6:00 last night. This one time each year, I'm in charge of the service, of what happens. Adam gets to sit and enjoy it, which is so good for a pastor occasionally.

But we had a fun and exhausting "big dinner" to attend on Friday night. And farmers market on Saturday morning (and all the labors that lead to that). Cookie baking happened on Saturday, but I was tired, and kept noticing the general slovenliness of the house. I'm waiting to clean until today and tomorrow, but the grime was building up. This irritates me. Adam went back to the school to do classroom work he couldn't do before, from 7:30 - 3:00. He wanted to go back and do more today, but I growled at him and put my foot down. "You are on break!" I said. "We will rest now!" I was saying to myself.

One of my hand chime ladies fell ill and was in the hospital, throwing my musical plans for Sunday night into chaos. I shuffled around and made "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel" work somehow, while worrying about her health and feeling guilty that I was even bothered about hand chimes when she was hospitalized. 

I had to practice: 1) a solo with my auto harp (an instrument I'm ill-at-ease on), 2) a duet ("Do You Hear What I Hear?" that I'd arranged and hand-written on staff paper in pencil with many scratches and mistakes, and with only a few words scribbled on the page, scrunched between wonky quarter notes, 3) "O Holy Night," which we'd thrown in there at the last minute, 4) various preludes and the carols, of course.

Then there were candles to put in windows, poinsettias to water, refreshment tables to arrange, holly to snip, more cookies to bake, programs to print and reprint. (How could I make three mistakes in such a simple document?) So Much To Do. And I must do it all with a smile and a happy spirit because I am, after all, the pastor's wife, and I've been doing this for many years, and none of these little difficulties should get to me now. 

But they do. And I have learned self-control over the years to suppress my inner rage at minor inconveniences. Now I simply whine ... at home.

Sunday morning after snipping new holly to replace dead holly in the sanctuary, I suddenly developed a sharp muscle pain in my back, just under my shoulder blade. Adam rubbed it, I took Tylenol, and I went on with my day. But I did ask God, "Really? This childish behavior again from You? We both know you've already got my attention. We both know I have issues with my attitude when things don't go absolutely smoothly. Do you really have to remind me again to slow down and not care so much about the details? I already know that, God!" (I took more Tylenol in the afternoon.)

But I have to relearn regularly to lay down my little idols at His feet and remind myself that they are worthless, lifeless things. Even preparing a worship service can be an idol. All ministry can quickly become an idol because it has the trappings of religion all around it, and it smells and looks like God. But it's not God Himself. It's far too easy to worship the ministry work, and not worship the Lord Himself. As I sit at the piano in the sanctuary week after week (and especially last night), I close my eyes and pray, reminding myself that I'm there to worship too, not just to facilitate others' worship. I disengage my thoughts about what key signature I'm supposed to be in, whether my voice will cooperate, whether this or that song was the best choice; I turn my mind around again to worship. 

Today, we rest.

Home

 Home is the quietest place, the place most calming to the spirit. I'm home as much as possible, and it heals me. I'd never considered how homeless Joseph, Mary, and Jesus were, after they left  Nazareth. How utterly homeless did Mary feel when they went to the home they were expecting to stay in, in Bethlehem, only to be told that the guest room was already occupied, and there wasn't space for them? "All we can offer you is where we keep the animals." Have you ever lost your home? (We have.) Being without a home is spirit-crushing.

They went from Bethlehem to Egypt swiftly, then to Jerusalem, then back to Bethlehem through Jesus's babyhood till the magi came. When they finally returned to Nazareth, I wonder if Mary let out a sigh of relief and though, "No more of this cray living! I've done enough, God!"

I'm very thankful for my home.

A friend gives me a waxed amaryllis bulb each Christmas. Slowly, so slowly, it rises, and gradually pushes out the first bloom, then the second. But after years, I have large clumps of amaryllis in my flower bed. So many beautiful things come slowly in life.

I celebrated in WalMart yesterday and bought a big, square tin of lovely cookies. I bought 3 bags of chocolate. (One for me, one for Adam, one for Julia. He instructed Julia to take his bag of peanut M&Ms AWAY so he couldn't eat them all.) I bought some new boxes of tea for church. 

The Yorkshire tea, in malty biscuit flavor, is for home, however.

I've decorated, although the outside of the house is devoid of Christmas cheer, I'm sorry to say. I'm at an age where I accept what I can do, and don't worry about what I can't do. In addition to our fake tree, I'm putting the appropriate ornament on our Jesse Tree each morning.

I've placed my little wooden tree with its ornaments on top of the piano.

Our old creche is assembled with its pine cone trees.

And I've hung my woven Advent calendar on a door. I was faithful to snap on only one figure each day for about the first 5 days, but then I couldn't resist; I put them ALL on. It was so much fun! The snaps are stubborn and sometimes don't work. I did save Baby Jesus, however, and will lay him in the manger on Christmas morning.

It's a jumble of figures, isn't it?

Mostly, I'm trying to get a variety of things finished before my daughter and her family arrive next week. Then I want it to be sheer family fun and together time while they're with us. I'm weaving, knitting, making lotions, doing yard work. And making Youtube videos nearly every day, which has been fun! If you have time and want to, go watch :)

I'm trying to be slow like the amaryllis. It's a gentle constant push against the hurry, a steady application of the brakes each day, all day. I choose not to go careening toward Christmas this year. So far ... so good!

Outside, doing yard stuff:

Inside, doing yarn stuff:

In the kitchen, making yummy stuff:

And I'm doing occasional poetry readings:

Quiet

 It's December 6. In a eye's blink, 2021 will be past. Advent and Christmas, with all their beauty and wonder, will be gone.

So I want to go slowly. As Robert Frost says in "October," -- "Slow! Slow!" He wishes for autumn leaves to fall only one at a time. At that rate, autumn would take all year long!

This past week I met with a dear friend at church, and we did "the greening of the church" for the first time ever. We started small, and we wore out quickly. We do the poinsettias every year, but the green swags of cedar, holly, and magnolia are a new thing.

There are cedar swags on the windows that you can't see here.

Each week I tell myself I'm going to stay HOME and get things done, work in the yard (so much tidying up to do!), and stay happily in my studio. But every day, something comes up -- a grocery run, errands, recycling, doctor visits -- and before you know it the week is gone.

We put up the Christmas tree. Our daughter's new kitten Leo loves to climb in the tree (of course), so he will be consigned to her room quite a bit this month. We're watching Christmas movies in the evening and drinking eggnog and enjoying the twinkling lights in the living room.

The house it quiet now. It's early Monday morning and I have the whole week stretched out before me. I wonder what I'll get done?

I have three scarves to weave, one knitted scarf to finish. Painting, of course -- I'm working on North Carolina's lighthouses. 

Pondering Advent, I read a friend's post about the carol, "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." We do plead with the Savior to come and ransom us. Truly we "mourn in lonely exile here."  I once wrote a song about what the world might have been like, if Jesus had never come. A fallen, broken, dark world where no savior, no rescue, ever arrives. How thankful I am for His birth at Christmas! His love pierces the world's darkness, consigning it to the corners. His love pours a balm of healing on all our brokenness. I cannot imagine living without the hope He gives me, of peace both here and after I die. These are my thoughts during Advent, that each year we wait in desperate hope for help in the hovel of our lives. He always comes.

Advent: A Time of Repentance and Mourning

 That title up there -- Adam told me that yesterday as we drove home from church, and it's stuck with me. For many American Protestant Evangelicals, who have little historical understanding of Advent (or Lent, for that matter), it feels more like they are engaged in a month-long baby shower with lots of presents and enthusiasm. 

NOT to be critical, however. Joy is also appropriate, as the angels told us. 

The advent calendar is hung, waiting Dec. 1. I think I've somehow lost the inn keeper, if I ever had one.

The Christmas cactus is beginning to bloom.

I'm sick. Not very sick, but either 1) an allergic reaction to lots of mouse dust in the barn, or 2) a cold caught from my grandbaby, John.

If it's John's cold, it is worth every single snuggle and hug!

They were here for a week, and now they are gone back to their busy lives, and we miss them. He is a very sweet baby.

So, being sick, I'm drinking tea and taking it a little easier for a few days.

I'm knitting a scarf with two yarns together, an easy pattern.

Time on the couch with the humidifier blowing pillows of moisture into the air, and my lovely (fake) fireplace glowing away. I love it.

The blanket is for Tricky, who loves to sleep on it. I'll wash it tomorrow, but until then, it's hers.

For years, I've wanted an elegant snow globe, but they are so very expensive. Last month, while strolling through the Christmas section at WalMart, I found this:

It sparkles and churns silver glitter all around, and even though it might be on the edge of ... well, not tacky, but not elegant ... I am enjoying it a lot. 

What do we mourn during Advent? Not the birth of the baby, but perhaps the fact that He had to come at all. We mourn our brokenness and wickedness that made our rescue necessary, and His coming and rescuing of us essential in order for us to regain peace, a better way to live. I look at the world around me, and the church in our world, and it's hard to see that we have found peace, or any better way to live. But I continue to hope.

I hope to post once a week this month. We shall see!

Fear Not!

 This final Sunday in Advent we light the Angels' candle.

The contrast of one small flickering wick against the glowing host of God's angelic army, is a shocking one. This is the candle of peace.

Why did the angels proclaim peace? Because previously they had come for war. They are the heavenly army, and God's Son is the captain of that host. He told Joshua so, when the Israelites  approached the Jordan River.

The heavenly army -- myriads, the Scripture says, which is pretty much an uncountable, limitless number in Greek -- had lost its captain. As the angel stands on the ground in front of the shepherds, telling them about the Christ lying in an animal trough, he might as well have said it this way, "We've lost our commander. He's now one of you. We've often been at war with humans, but now, because He's joined your side, we must be at peace."

We don't see God's army of angels too often in the Bible's account, before that night near Bethlehem. Jacob saw them going up and down a ladder -- going back and forth between heaven and earth as if they were out running errands. That must've been a shock! Do we think of angels back and forth, back and forth, around us every day? 

The prophet Elijah knew the angelic army was there in huge numbers, circling all the hills around the Syrian army. He asked God to show them to his servant. An army at the ready, able to obliterate God's enemies in a moment. One angel alone killed 185,000 Assyrian soldiers in one night. What could tens of thousands of them do? What kind of power is that?

"Fear not!" Certainly they must tell that to everyone they meet. They inspire fear. They're not floating ladies in sparkly tiaras, singing descants. They're soldiers. 

Since when does an army of unlimited number come down to the enemy camp and say, "Peace"? Peace to all men with whom God is pleased. Peace to you, shepherds. Peace to traveling strangers who seek God. Peace to all the people, they said. 

The peace proclaimed wasn't peace among humans, obviously. It is peace between God and humans, and His army will not be called out against them so long as its commander shares their DNA. His incarnation is our salvation. He is resurrected in heaven right now, in his physical body, so that all those fierce angels look at Him and remember: "We are at peace with them." Hallelujah.

"Are not all angels ministering spirits, sent to serve those who will inherit salvation?" Hebrews 1:14

Shepherds and Their Sheep

 The third week of Advent -- we light the Shepherds' Candle. During the fast that is Advent, this Sunday is a break, a reprieve, a day of joy. 

God the Father announced the birth of His Son with a stunning musical display in the sky! I wish I could have seen that concert. He also deliberately chose to show this 'concert par excellence' only to shepherds. This is rather like Chopin, Liszt, Beethoven, and Brahms presenting a piano concert secretly in the middle of the night in rural Pennsylvania and inviting only homeless people.

A new Christmas carol is popular right now. Here are the lyrics:

"O come, all you unfaithful,

Come, weak and unstable,

Come, know you are not alone.

O come, barren and waiting ones,

Weary of praying, come

See what your God has done.

Christ is born, Christ is born,

Christ is born for you."

There are more lyrics, and they are worth reading. Much as I love the old carols and feel they are true, this is certainly the gospel: Baby Jesus came for the lowest of all. They were invited to His birth -- the shepherds, the foreigners, the travelers, the poor. 

That's why this is the candle of Joy. The most valuable gift in the universe is given to the most needy, yes? Much as it pains me to point it out, at the time He was born, Jesus was hidden from the high and powerful, the bold and confident. Do not look for Him in their ranks. When they are brought low with suffering and trial, then you will find Him among them.

What Joy, to find that God's best gift is for YOU, when you are at your lowest! The angels' song is for you, the miracle is for you, the hope is for you. Heaven is for you.

"Come to me,

all you who are weary and heavy-laden,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you,

and learn of Me,

for I am gentle and humble of heart,

and you will find rest for your souls;

for My yoke is easy

and my burden is light."

~ Jesus

Little Bethlehem

 This second week of Advent we light the Bethlehem candle. Although we've romanticized it in nativity story, Bethlehem was a troubled city, a city of death and birth. 

Bethlehem's first significant event was the death of Rachel, Jacob's beloved wife, as she gave birth to Benjamin in a difficult labor. As she was dying, and he was being born, she gave him his name: "son of my sorrow."

At the end of the Judges a horrifying story is told. A woman from Bethlehem, the wife of a priest, has left him and gone home to her daddy. The priest retrieves her, fails to protect her during their journey away from Bethlehem, and she is attacked, raped, and murdered. Which townsmen raped and murdered her? The men of Jerusalem -- men of Benjamin. How did the priest express his anger and offense at her death? He cut her into 12 pieces and sent her body parts to the heads of the 12 tribes. The nation was shocked and angry. Civil War ensued. The men of Benjamin were nearly wiped out -- all because a woman left her home in Bethlehem and died a brutal death in Jerusalem.

The very next Scripture is the book of Ruth, which also takes place in Bethlehem. Ruth is David's great grandmother. She's a stranger from Moab, but the rest of the family is from Bethlehem. Ruth has been barren until she comes to Bethlehem where she finds a husband and bears a son. And David's line continues all the way down to Joseph, who takes pregnant Mary there because the census requires that they be counted in their home town. So she goes to have her baby boy there, in Bethlehem.

So many babies!

After they escape Bethlehem by night, the baby boys of Bethlehem are all slaughtered in one night by soldiers sent from Herod, a king terrified of a new baby king. 

These thoughts rumble around in my head and I try to make sense of them. So many babies. So much violence. So much promise, but so much loss. Doesn't it sound like our lives? So much hope; so much loss. Babies fill us with hope, new little humans with years of potential in them! But the story of Bethlehem is a cautionary tale in the midst of that hope. For Mary, Jesus was also the "son of my sorrow," a baby boy destined for brutal death. 

These are uncomfortable thoughts at Christmas, but Advent is supposed to be a time of uncomfortable reflection, of somber preparation, much like Lent. Why isn't it a time of raucous, jubilant celebration because the Savior of the world is coming? Why do we grieve in Advent? Because he comes to die. The prophets foretold that as well. 

Thanks for bearing with me as I ruminate on this new understanding of little Bethlehem. God gives us eternal hope, unyielding hope, but the road to Bethlehem -- and away from it -- is hard.

Advent: Simple and Small

 Thanksgiving was simple and small this year. We love our huge Thanksgiving feast at church with dozens of guests ... but. But it was so nice to have a little break from that, at home. Just us. Simple and small.

Tolkien said, "It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life." 

A friend on facebook wrote recently, "There really does seem to be a push to always do more."

The pandemic has done many horrible things, but it's also pushed some of us toward simplicity against our will. Pushed us home, pushed us to family, pushed us to spend less and do less, pushed us outdoors.

Advent is a time of waiting and anticipation. Can it also be a time of rest and peace? For Mary, it should've been both -- anticipation and resting -- but it wasn't. I doubt if she had much peace or rest, leaving Nazareth on foot, walking the 90+ miles. Why didn't she stay home in Nazareth with her mother, to have the baby? Why did she have to go with Joseph? What a terrible time to travel!

I long for a peaceful, quiet, waiting Advent this year, of all years. Simple and small. A year when I at last put away the bad habit of "pushing myself to always do more." Over-doing is a bad habit, and it helps no one.

Exodus 16: 17,18 says that when manna first fell from heaven for the Israelites, "some gathered much and some gathered little." Like humans today, some were over-achievers, and some were rather lazy. They'd been told to gather just enough: a daily portion for each person.

But when their portions were weighed, neither their over-achieving nor their laziness mattered; "every man gathered as much as he should eat." God arranged it so that each person had just enough.

I've been pondering that all week since Adam's sermon on Sunday. Are we killing ourselves with over-work, to no benefit? Spinning our wheels and calling ourselves productive? There's such pressure to produce and perform! 

I'll end with some photos and then a link to my youtube channel, in case some of you want to check out the latest. I hope you can taken a moment to rest and reflect on the peace of Advent.

Thanksgiving dinner

Pumpkin pie

Our sanctuary, prepared for Advent:

And a couple of youtube videos~

I go on two adventures near my home:

I travel further afield to the mountains, and make chai:

Blessings and peace to all you, dear friends!

Advent 25

Advent 23

 Picking up the grandbaby at the the airport. He brought along his devoted parents too. 

 Now we're relaxing at home. Ahhhh.

 Meeting Auntie Julia!

Riding Auntie Julia like a horsie!

This week should be a delightful series of days in which we do little, eat a lot, and enjoy each other's company. Merry Christmas!

Advent 22

A week or so ago I noticed a stem of irises in my shade garden. I don't remember having yellow irises there. Clearly they were trying to bloom, in December. Because this is Pamlico County where ALL the flowering plants are constantly confused about what season it is. (Hurricanes do that.)

Freezing temps were coming, so I cut off the stem, plunked it in some water by a window inside, and waited. I'm glad I did.

I am exhausted. I'm trying still to do all the things I used to do before Christmas that I did when I was a younger woman (well, the whole season, from sometime in late October ... until ...), and I'm not up to it anymore. I'm tired. Tomorrow I want to stay in my pajamas on the couch and play with my beloved, sweet grandson. I think I'll turn off my phone. Maybe he and I will look at the iris blooms together.

Advent 19

 A few Christmas watercolors! I like these well enough that I might get Adam to scan them.

 I painted these using some of Tasha Tudor's sketches from her books. She does such wonderful animals.

 These two must be Mr. and Mrs. Mouse, who disrupted the farm family's Thanksgiving dinner. I wonder what mischief they'll get up to at Mr. Willowby's house at Christmas?
Adam has been making truffles.

Advent 17

The boy Jesus in the temple

 A dear friend invited me to attend the annual Messiah concert in New Bern at Centenary Methodist Church. I'd never been in their sanctuary before - what stunning windows! Above is the west window, with the afternoon sun coming in.
Below is the east window. During a Sunday morning service I imagine it would be brilliant with light.

 The west window again:

 The sanctuary, before the choir and orchestra entered:

 A church member advised me to go find their chapel and see the stained glass in there as well, so I did. I entered a room that took my breath away with its warm golden walls and sense of worship.

The afternoon performance is actually a dress rehearsal, which was quite fun -- listening to the conductor's corrections and commendations. It was another music-filled day, and now (on Tuesday) I'm ready to stay home and paint quietly.

Advent 16

The weekend went crazy with 2 concerts (in which I played, sang, directed, and did a solo), farmers' market, regular church activities, plus a Candlelight Service in New Bern. Phew!

This is First Presbyterian Church in New Bern, where Adam and I went for the service last night.

It was gorgeous.

Candlelight, handbells, children's choirs,

beautiful readings,

all in a church building 

from the early 1800's, I think.