The gift you didn't think you wanted

My mother has always been really good at gift-giving. She has a knack for choosing gifts I wouldn't have expected, wouldn't have thought I wanted, things that called out to her "she might like me!"

I'm sitting in my living room, drinking coffee (rather heavily laced with Irish cream) out of a mug she put in my Christmas stocking some fifteen years ago at least and thinking about Christmas. Thinking about my mom. I have gifts yet to buy, and twelve hours from now the kids will be in bed, the Christmas pageant at our church long over. I have Christmas baking to do and a lot of tidying and cleaning to finish up. Many things are decidedly last minute this year, a procrastinator's affliction that has rarely affected my mother. 

She gets her shit together in good time. Even last year, which, when you think about it, is amazing. All the driving and errand-running and preparations she did. And we had no idea, no clue what was happening, what was about to happen.

Christmas was odd, with her upstairs in inexplicable agony, us downstairs opening gifts and giving each other knowing glances, casting our eyes up the stairs, wondering, concerned. She was absent and later told me she had little memory of that day, but we had her prior thoughtfulness with us downstairs. Warm socks. Chocolate. Coffee beans. Her tokens of consideration that have long been my favourite part of Christmas morning: my stocking, now a gift bag as my stocking now resides alongside my husband's and our children's in our own home.

She is so good at choosing gifts. I feel very much that I have failed to develop that talent at selecting small things that declare to the recipient "I thought of you" as every gift should. It is one thing to give a gift requested, a gift that fills a known need, but quite another to give a gift that fills a need unrealized, a need or desire the recipient did not know existed until the moment the gift is received and it shines a light on the need or desire it so instantly fills. 

To show someone that you think of them when you are away from them. That you carry them, carry their needs and their wants and their wishes in your heart always. That through your day you are thinking of them, considering them, wishing them well, wishing joy for them.

That is a gift.

It has me thinking about the greater Christmas celebrations in which our family participates. It's a challenge, as people who celebrate both popular culture Christmas, with Santa Claus and a tree and magic reindeer, as well as religious Christmas, with Jesus and Mary and Joseph and angels and shepherds and stars. How to explain to our children how one relates to the other? What, exactly, can they possibly have to do with one another?

And then I thought of my mother.

It's about the gift you didn't expect to receive, that you didn't know you needed, the gift you didn't think you'd want. An infant saviour? While under an oppressive and foreign regime? What use is that? 

It's the gift you didn't think you wanted. 

The Seed Babies

Sweet baby seed, so small and so round

Hide down deep under the ground

Under the earth you safely hide

Stay there, now: don't peek outside!

I've dug you a hole and I've put you to sleep

Your leaves will come up and your roots will go deep

This is a favourite verse of ours. The girls will often take turns playing the seed, or sometimes be seeds together, curling up on the floor under a blanket while I recite the verse until I say the words "Your leaves will come up..." when they throw the blanket off their back and spring up onto their feet, arms stretched overhead to be their leaves. 

In the past week I've been seeing a popular meme on Facebook, pointing out that the ancient celebration of the goddess Ishtar (pronounced "easter") was a fertility festival in which eggs and rabbits were common images. "So there, Christians: your holy days aren't so Christian now, are they?" is the general impression I've gotten from the meme. And the point is a valid one: the celebration of the resurrection of the Lord isn't as simple as it may seem. But I, for one, believe in a god big enough and interesting enough that She might choose for the whole resurrection story to play out at a time of year where the pathetic fallacy of the season of new life and rebirth can work alongside those same themes within these holy days. So as we have approached Easter, I have been struck by the desire to have any little gifts we might give the girls this Easter morning represent those same themes, effectively bringing our Waldorf living and our holy observances together.

 

I not only brought them together, I stitched them together in felt.

I saw this image on Pinterest and felt an unrelenting need to stitch up similar little Seed Baby dolls for my girls. They're just so cute! I'm so glad that I did, too. The girls love them and I had a lot of fun constructing them.

It's a lot of handstitching. I was able to serge the back seam of the inner and outer face layers, and to stitch the two halves of the body together, but that was all. Every other stitch was made - sometimes painstakingly - by hand. I may have been up until 2am sewing these things. But it was totally worth it.

The way a Waldorf doll face is constructed is quite ingenious. There is something so satisfying about the alchemy of turning a ball into a face just by running a few lengths of thread around it and giving it a stout yank. I foresee a lot of little dolls in our future. Summer flower children, Mother Nature, possibly an entire Nativity scene...

I had also found (again, via Pinterest) this post about felt blanket-stitched chicks, so I made two of them, as well. They're simple and sweet, and a great little project to whip up sitting on the couch or driving in the car. I've developed a new love of blanket stitch as a result, too: seeing all those little stitches lined up neatly in a row is very gratifying.

I'm thinking of putting together a tutorial on the seed babies, particularly since I deviated from the inspiration post and tutorial in several ways, but the tutorial linked really is great, though it is originally in Dutch and the internet translator does make some, let's call them inventive, choices with language. Still, the photos and translated text are quite clear so if you are hoping to make your own Seed Babies, you should have no trouble getting the gist of what to do. The inspiration post for the chicks had a link to the tutorial the blog writer had written, supposedly including a printable pattern, but sadly the document link is broken. Boo. I created my own pattern and I'm very happy with it, so I plan to scan it and post it, as well. For now, though, Easter chocolate and sleep. I think I've earned it!

*****

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
Isaiah 43:19

He is Risen, indeed!

sackcloth and ashes

Because I do not hope to turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to turn
Desiring this man's gift and that man's scope
I no longer strive to strive towards such things
(Why should the aged eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the usual reign?

Because I do not hope to know again
The infirm glory of the positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall not know
The one veritable transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice

And pray to God to have mercy upon us
And pray that I may forget
These matters that with myself I too much discuss
Too much explain
Because I do not hope to turn again
Let these words answer
For what is done, not to be done again
May the judgement not be too heavy upon us

Because these wings are no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat the air
The air which is now thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than the will
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still.

Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.
~ T.S. Eliot

I pray for the families of those so senselessly, callously killed in Newtown this day. I pray and I weep for lost children. God in Her heaven weeps.

advent week 2

This is a tad late - I'd planned to get this posted by Friday or Saturday but a nasty flu had other plans - but here is Advent Week 2. As with Week 1, we do the same readings every evening, allowing the repetition of the words to work their way into our hearts. Did you find that toward the end of the first week that your children were able to recite some of the verses with you? Peanut is quite enjoying the little songs that open our advent evening reading.

We begin with the same two verses as last week (if you are interested in singing them, I've scored out simple tunes that you can find here):

We light two candles shining bright
Upon this Holy Advent night
Fill Our Hearts with loving might
Lead us to Christmas Day's brilliant light!

 - M.T. Shuneman

See my candle burning

With a golden light,

Shining from my window

Out into the night.

I can light a candle,

God can light a star;

Both of them are helpful,

Shining where they are.
 - Traditional

Scripture readings for Week 2

Jeremiah 17: 7-8 : "But I will bless the person who puts his trust in me. 8 He is like a tree growing near a streamand sending out roots to the water. It is not afraid when hot weather comes, because its leaves stay green; it has no worries when there is no rain; it keeps on bearing fruit.

Matthew 13: 31-36: Jesus told them another parable: "The Kingdom of heaven is like this. A man takes a mustard seed and sows it in his field. 32 It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it grows up, it is the biggest of all plants. It becomes a tree, so that birds come and make their nests in its branches." 33 Jesus told them still another parable: "The Kingdom of heaven is like this. A woman takes some yeast and mixes it with a bushel of flour until the whole batch of dough rises." 34 Jesus used parables to tell all these things to the crowds; he would not say a thing to them without using a parable. 35 He did this to make come true what the prophet had said, "I will use parables when I speak to them; I will tell them things unknown since the creation of the world."

1 Corinthians 15:36-41: When you plant a seed in the ground, it does not sprout to life unless it dies. 37 And what you plant is a bare seed, perhaps a grain of wheat or some other grain, not the full-bodied plant that will later grow up. 38 God provides that seed with the body he wishes; he gives each seed its own proper body. 39 And the flesh of living beings is not all the same kind of flesh; human beings have one kind of flesh, animals another, birds another, and fish another. 40 And there are heavenly bodies and earthly bodies; the beauty that belongs to heavenly bodies is different from the beauty that belongs to earthly bodies. 41 The sun has its own beauty, the moon another beauty, and the stars a different beauty; and even among stars there are different kinds of beauty.

Two poems

Advent

Now the twilight of the year
Comes, and Christmas draweth near.

See, across the Advent sky
How the clouds move quietly.

Earth is waiting, wrapt in sleep,
Waiting in a silence deep.

Birds are hid in bush and reed
Flowers are sleeping in their seed.

Through the woodland to and fro
silent-footed creatures go.

Hedgehog curled in prickly ball
Burrows 'neath the leaves that fall.

Man and beast and bird and flower
Waiting for the midnight hour
Waiting for the Christ-child's birth
Christ who made the heaven and earth.

by Ann Ellerton

Tree of Life

Christmas

tree of

life

cut down

to lift up

our source of

joy

by Art Van Seters

Sunday Evening Story - A Tree for Christmas by Dandi Daley Mackall

Saturday Evening Story - 

Advent Garden Story

Long, long ago, Mother Mary was preparing for the first Christmas. It was time for her to weave a robe for the Christ Child who was soon to be born.

Among the stars she wandered, and they gave her radiant threads of crystal for the Child’s robe. To the Moon she went, and it gave her silver threads. Threads of gleaming gold the Sun gave to her. And so Mother Mary gathered all the lovely threads and began to weave. But alas! The threads slipped apart and could not be woven together. On her way went Mother Mary, searching, searching.

“Ah, dear stones and crystals,” said Mother Mary, “you are so strong and firm. Can you help me to weave these threads into a robe for the Christ Child?”

“No, Mother Mary. We will mark your pathway to the stable and give you sturdy ground for your footsteps, but we cannot help you weave your threads.”

“Ah, dear plants,” said Mother Mary, “you are so lovely and green. Some of you are green even in the depth of winter. Can you help me to weave these threads into a robe for the Christ Child?”

“No, Mother Mary. We will make you a garden where the Christmas rose can bloom, but we cannot help you weave your threads.”

“Ah, dear animals,” said Mother Mary, “you are so nimble and lively. Can you help me to weave these threads into a robe for the Christ Child?”

“No, Mother Mary. Our brother Donkey will help you on your long journey, but we cannot help you weave your threads.”

Now Mother Mary no longer knew where to turn for help to weave her lovely threads. But lo! There came an angel to her and spoke softly, saying: “Mother Mary, you must ask the children for the love in their hearts. When the children of Earth send you their love, then you will be able to weave the Christ Child’s robe.”

And that is just what happened. And now, each year at Advent time the angel comes and brings us a light in the darkness. From it every child can take a light. These lights will send heart’s love to Mother Mary, to weave a robe for the coming Christ Child.

Advent Garden story:
Special Thanks to Cynthia Kennedy from Alan Howard Waldorf School Store, Toronto.

DPP2012::december 2

Advent begins

The first candle of our wreath is lit.

Advent began today, though not how we had planned. Saturday was to bring a pancake breakfast with Gran and cousins and my sister and brother-in-law. Today we had planned our weekly worship at church with a gathering of friends in the afternoon for a new advent tradition: an advent spiral. Instead, we had two sick children (Baby's First Gastro Bug is not nearly as enjoyable a milestone as most are) so our planned weekend of visits and festivities became a weekend of Christmas movies, the Muppets and Glee, naps and a lot of laundry. This morning, though, both girls were feeling chipper and well - a very welcome change from the day before - so though we lay low to continue resting and recuperating, there was fun. And beauty: there is always beauty.

We began our advent journey this evening. We lit the first candle - Bubby, being the youngest child, assisted in lighting it, while Peanut will assist in lighting the two candles of the second week - and did our first reading of this week's devotional. We hung the strands on our chandelier from which we will hang our beads, and we chose our first beads - one for each of us - and strung them. 

Four little beads. A seashell, two glass beads and a pearl, in keeping with this week's theme of stones, crystals, seashells and bones. 

And the walk to Bethlehem is begun.

Advent week 1

Advent 2012: Week 1, Crystals and Stones

The first week of Advent in the Waldorf tradition is dedicated to the kingdom of minerals: crystals and stones. Likewise, our scripture lessons and verses for this week relate to this theme. The overall themes for advent - waiting and preparation, lighting the darkness, peace and the coming Christ-child - are present every week.

***

We light one candle shining bright 
Upon this Holy Advent night 
Fill Our Hearts with loving might 
Lead us to Christmas Day's brilliant light!

 - M.T. Shuneman

See my candle burning

With a golden light,

Shining from my window

Out into the night.

I can light a candle,

God can light a star;

Both of them are helpful,

Shining where they are.
 - Traditional

Scripture passages

Isaiah 28:16: So this is what the Sovereign LORD says: "See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who trusts will never be dismayed.

Matthew 21:42: Jesus said to them, "Have you never read in the Scriptures: " 'The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes' ?

1 Peter 2:4-9 : As you come to him, the living Stone--rejected by men but chosen by God and precious to him--5 you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. 6 For in Scripture it says: "See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame." 7 Now to you who believe, this stone is precious. But to those who do not believe, "The stone the builders rejected has become the capstone, " 8 and, "A stone that causes men to stumble and a rock that makes them fall." They stumble because they disobey the message--which is also what they were destined for. 9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.

Sunday evening story

Once upon a time, a tiny mouse asked a dove to tell him the weight of a snowflake.

“The weight of a snowflake is nothing more than nothing,” replied the dove.

“You would think so,” said the mouse, “but let me tell you a story. Last winter, I sat on a branch,

huddled close to the trunk of an evergreen tree, when it began to slow. IT was a gentle snow, and,

since I had nothing better to do, I began counting the snowflakes. One... two... three... on and on

84

they came, until they numbered 3, 567, 655. When the next snowflake dropped to the branch - nothing

more than nothing- the branch broke off.

The dove thought for a moment, and said, “Perhaps like that snowflake it will take just one

person’s voice to bring peace to the world.”

Saturday evening story
The story of young St. Nicholas

A poem

Deep peace I breathe into you, O weariness, here:

O ache, here!
Deep peace of the running wave to you,

Deep peace of the flowing air to you,

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the sleeping stones to you!

Deep peace of the Yellow Shepherd to you,

Deep peace of the Wandering Shepherdess to you,

Deep peace of the Flock of Stars to you,

Deep peace from the Son of Peace to you,

Deep peace from the heart of Mary to you,

And from Briget of the Mantle

Deep peace, deep peace!

And with the kindness too of the Haughty Father

Peace!

In the name of the Three who are One,

Peace!

And by the will of the King of the Elements,

Peace! Peace!
abridged from the dominion of dreams : under a dark star - fiona macleod - 1895

***

advent: preparation and wonder

One of the elements of Waldorf education that I quite appreciate is the importance of marking cultural festivals, days of social and even sacred significance. In the next post of my series on Waldorf in our home I'll be talking about this as I look at reverence in Waldorf living. What is notable is that, while Waldorf traditions are most definitely and undeniably Christian in origin, the traditions can be easily adapted to suit a home which is not Christian. Fortunately for us, these traditions align perfectly with our faith, so we have been happy to embrace all of the Christian elements of Waldorf traditions. Advent is a particularly emphasised season in the Waldorf year, and as I have been planning how our family will be marking the days of Advent I have considered how I can incorporate some Waldorf elements into our devotional.

Rudolph Steiner divided the four weeks of the Advent season into four themes. As the weeks progress, the complexity of the themes increases. The four weeks are ordered thus:

The first light of Advent is the light of stone–.
Stones that live in crystals, seashells, and bones.
The second light of Advent is the light of plants–
Plants that reach up to the sun and in the breezes dance.
The third light of Advent is the light of beasts–
All await the birth, from the greatest and in least.
The fourth light of Advent is the light of humankind–
The light of hope that we may learn to love and understand

With that in mind, this year our nightly Advent devotional will follow the theme of the week, using scripture passages that align with that theme. We'll also be creating an Advent display as we did last year, only this year using beads to represent the week's theme.

In keeping with the ideas of rhythm and predictability, we'll be using the same scripture readings, short song and rhymes Monday through Friday of the week. On Sunday - to begin the week - and on Saturday - to close it - we'll add a short story. We won't be engaging in a great deal of conversation about the evening's devotional, just a short check-in with Peanut about what she's hearing and what she may be thinking. She's so free with her thoughts, I'm sure she'll have lots to say. My aim is not to educate but to expose, to give our girls an experience of preparation and waiting, of wonder and amazement, and to simply see the advent and nativity stories expressed. In turn, I think Jon and I will have much to learn from them as they encounter the overriding themes of the season.

Our advent display for this year will hang suspended from the chandelier over our dining table. Wires will be hooked onto the five shades of the chandelier and the beads will be strung onto them. By Christmas morning, we will have a mutlicoloured bead star over our heads as we eat. I think it will be beautiful.

I'll be posting the readings for each week's devotional: just click the button in the sidebar to the left to access the weeks that have been posted. If you are looking for a way to mark the season with your family, I hope you'll feel free to use these posts to make your own season one of preparation and wonder.

how my children teach me to forgive

Child of God. We hear these words often enough. "You are a child of God" we say to one another; "I am a child of God" we describe ourselves. But as I've meditated on how we live, on how we relate to God and to each other, on how we enter into our relations with God and the Church, I've come to the realization that we may be only paying lip-service to these words. Child of God.

Or perhaps we do believe. Perhaps we truly do see ourselves as a child of God. But not a "child" child. An adult child, a child who has grown up. After all, don't nearly all parents say of their grown children, "Oh, you'll always be my baby" despite the practical evidence to the contrary? But while I know my mother looks at me and can see me as the infant, the toddler, the dimply-kneed ringlet-headed girl I once was, our relationship has most definitely changed. Now myself a mother twice over, she and I are more peers than we ever were before. We understand each other in more fundamental and complex ways than was ever before possible.

Is this true of our relationship with God? Jesus calls us "brother"; Jesus calls us "friend". But it's extremely dodgy theology to in any way suggest that we are now in a peer relationship with God. Jesus removes the barriers of sin that divided us from God, the salvation of Christ lifts us up to the beatific radiance of God's glory, but it does not make us peers with God. 

We need to start taking these words at face-value. I am a child of God. I am a child. Not a post-child, not a former child, but a child here and now. I do not understand what is before me. I do not see what God sees. I do not act with Christ's maturity, understanding or grace.

But look at children! Look at the kindness of children. Our four year old has a habit of antagonizing our one year old. She's been known to use her considerable advantage in size, pushing, body-blocking, grabbing, and pulling her younger sister around. And what does our one year old do in response? Rather than returning in kind, more often than not she cries out in alarm, in distress, only to reach out to her sister once again. She's more guarded, quicker to protect herself, but bears no grudge. She reaches out, again and again and again to her debtor. And how does her older sister respond? With further torment? No, instead she learns from her small sister's kindness, takes her by the hand, embraces her, laughs with her, plays with her.

Their relationship is a true, human microcosm of real forgiveness. It isn't blind or self-dismissing: there is room for self-care and protection. But it is never ending, it is repetitious, it is kind and it is healing. And my children understand it. They do. And while their father and I have tried to manifest that forgiveness for them, it seems far more innate than learned. So if my children can naturally fall into Christ-like patterns of forgiveness, being a true child of God isn't such a bad thing, is it? As Psalm 8:2 reads,

Nursing infants gurgle choruses about you;

toddlers shout the songs

That drown out enemy talk,

and silence atheist babble.

Approach God as a child, free of pretence or self-importance, of self-aggrandisement or pride. Approach Her in wonder, in awe, in complete lack of understanding, in utter confusion. Lift up your voice in joy, in laughter, in glee, in spontaneity, in total disregard for propriety. Fall on your knees in dependence, in reliance, in need.  She doesn't call us to be strong but to embrace our weakness, to accept and acknowledge our brokenness.

Like the child that you are, let her "cover you with her wings; you will be safe in her care; her faithfulness will protect and defend you."

honour the present child

Children are actual, genuine, autonomous and fully valuable human beings.

The demand - they command! - respect, consideration, concern and interest.

The minute - the very instant - we fail to treat our children in a way which acknowledges and honours these truths, we fail our children. 

Not maybe. Not sort of. We do: we fail them.

I fail my children a lot, I will admit. I do. But I keep trying. I keep picking my mother-self up and dusting her off with my metaphorical objective philosopher-self hands of grace and get back to the business of mothering. Back to the business not simply of raising these children as though they were crops, not simply training them as though they were a domesticated animal, but growing them. Of growing with them. Of living with them. Of learning from them what they need as much as - if not more than - I am teaching them. 

Children will not "grow up to be someone someday". They are someone. They are each someone. Right now. Right here. No matter how small or uneducated or crazy or clumsy or challenging or confused or silly or unsure they may be, they are each of them someone. Someone worthy. Someone valuable. Someone with thoughts and feelings and ideas - oh, so many ideas - and wants and needs and talents - yes, talents! - and strengths and weaknesses and questions that cry out to be heard, to be seen, to be felt, to be honoured.

I am tired - utterly, truly, totally exhausted - of trying to convince fellow adults of these facts. Of trying to convince fellow former children that today's current children should not be seen as mere potential. They possess potential - scads of it, heaps of it, endless bounds of it, of course - but to speak only of their potential, to seek only to feed or cultivate their potential while ignoring their very real, very present and very deserving current abilities is heartbreakingly dismissive.

Do not dismiss children. Do not dismiss what they can do here, now, today. Do not ignore the small person you see. 

Do not presume for one moment that - because you have never taken the time to inquire, to listen, to hear - the child before you does not have profound and complex thoughts.

Do not ever forget that that child is as much a Soul as you.

i've got the joy

Every year, we sing O Sacred Head Sore Wounded as the final hymn on Good Friday. And every year, during the last verse, I cry. Last year, at the height of my maternity hormones while eight months pregnant, I was weeping by the second phrase of the first verse. The immensity of the sacrifice, of the sorrow and wrong just proves too intense and the tears well up and overflow. And I'm not alone: there are red eyes scattered throughout the sanctuary.

And then Saturday comes. Most years it feels like a lost day, a day adrift, locked in the void between sacrifice and death, and resurrection and life. A day where we exist, if you will pardon the pun, in limbo. A day of nothing. We lose our Lord on Friday and regain Him on Sunday: what to do with the time in between? Having not yet reached the celebration and Hallelujahs of Easter morning, it is a day which seems apart from joy.

But not for me, this year. Yesterday noon I stood in the choir loft and I sang out those same phrases of Bernard of Clairvaux, those same notes of Hassler and Bach, which every year before racked me with anguish and weeping, and sang joyfully. Not a single tear, not a single breath caught in my throat. And today, this Saturday of waiting, of vigil? I celebrate. I am filled with hope and joy.

Why? Because late Wednesday night and into Thursday morning I attended a birth. I attended a mother and father as they welcomed a second child. I witnessed such strength and courage and wisdom in that mother, perseverance and love as she worked her baby into this world of light and breath. I witnessed a baby fight her way from grey limpness to pink and fighting vibrancy encouraged by the skilled and loving hands of midwives and her parents, our voices calling out to her: "Come on, baby; come on!"

And she did. And she is beautiful and she is marvellous and she is a living testament to how wonderfully we are made.

And because after I returned home from worship I learned that my friend who has been waiting for new lungs and a renewed chance at a long, full life had gotten the call. That in the middle of the night, while my family lay sleeping, her family was kissing her outside an operating room in Toronto, holding vigil in prayer and supplication as she underwent the more than nine hours of surgery it would take to give her new lungs from a generous, loved, and never forgotten donor. Through that gift, her time in this world of light and breath and dancing now extended.

New life. New lives and resurrection. How, how could I possibly weep but for joy on these days? Because I see such evidence around me not only of the great and powerful and inestimable love of God for us, but also of that Love's working. The grace with which we are endowed by that loving Lord. And so I will sing out our Hallelujahs tomorrow morning filled not only with joy but with new and clearer vision of the purpose behind that Friday sacrifice. It is for joy. It is for hope. It is for love. It is for life, here and now and forever and ever.

This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes.

                                                                     Psalm 118:23

                         

blossom

My word for 2011 is blossom.

For months now, I've known that I am in a season of change. In retrospect, it began over a year ago with dreading my hair, though I didn't realize it at the time. It is proving to be a season of spiritual change as I reflect and re-evaluate my faith and my vision of the church, of what the church is meant to be and how I fit into it and how that affects and effects my relationship with God. It's a season of emotional and existential change as I reflect on my identity, my role in our family, my role in society at large. I have been meditating on what and how I contribute, on the value of what I do, on balancing my desires for my children, my family, and myself. I have been struggling with how to balance what I do with what I think, my full-time mothering with my feminism.




It's complicated. It's challenging. At times it's a little heartbreaking, when my ideals appear to exist in conflict with one another and I need to reconcile them. And finding space in which to delve into these matters, giving myself the mental space to deal with it all is incredibly difficult. Small-space living as a family of four is snug and cozy, but it does come with a few drawbacks, and the premium placed on solitude is one of them.

****

I've staked out some space at a Starbucks a few blocks from our apartment - my beloved Bridgehead is closed today, and I need space, tea, and free wi-fi. Jon is home with the girls. They are fine without me there (I am very grateful, for a whole host of reasons, that at very-nearly 8 months old, I am no longer Bubby's sole food-source). I have time and the ability to think.

****

Why 'blossom'? I considered other words. I considered 'bloom', 'bud', 'sprout'... But I settled on blossom.

blos·som   [blos-uhm]noun Botany .
1.the flower of a plant, especially of one producing an edible fruit.
1.the flower of a plant, especially of one producing an edible fruit.
2.the state of flowering: The apple tree is in blossomverb (used without object)3.Botany . to produce or yield blossoms.
4.to flourish; develop (often followed by into  or out ): a writerof commercial jingles who blossomed out into an importantcomposer.
5.(of a parachute) to open.
and from the World English Dictionary:

3.	(of plants) to come into flower
4.	to develop or come to a promising stage: youth had blossomed into maturity

I have been resisting the change I feel happening. I have been holding onto fear and turning away from the bravery and vulnerability I need to face in order to allow that change to happen. But I can't resist any longer. For that reason, I briefly considered claiming the word 'brave' but decided against it. I know that I need to be brave, but simply saying that I'm going to be brave without pointing to why I will be brave, without looking toward what will come of that bravery will not help me. I need to accept the challenge and move forward into change. Bravery is merely one of the tools I need to take me there. The mark on which my eye is laid is to blossom.

In blossoming, what will be comes out of what is. What is - the beginning, the genesis, the bud - is good, and it is beautiful and sweet and dear, but what will be - the blossom - is its destiny. It is what is meant to be. It is what must be. It is, literally, necessary for fruition.

I have been tucked inside for too long. I have been curled unto myself, holding within the potential for beauty, for the bearing of fruit. I've resisted the blooming, afraid. Afraid of failure. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of not succeeding the way I presume that I should. Afraid of disappointing myself, my family. Afraid of over-extending myself. Afraid of being challenged. Afraid of changing into someone I don't recognize, not because who I might become would be so terrible but because I think that I am comfortable.

But I'm not. I'm not comfortable. I am frustrated. I'm not frustrated in my life - my family, my husband, my children, our life together, is life-giving and sustaining - but frustrated in my production. I have been soaking up goodness, wisdom, thought, reflection, ideas, beauty for ages: the time has come to contribute. It's time to  own my voice. 

Some of the ways I am going to blossom are:

*voicing my needs 

*allowing and forcing myself to embrace discomfort

*accepting that things which have been may be coming to an end in order make space for what will be

*acknowledging and embracing that my faith and my past expressions of it are changing and I have to allow that change to happen

*using my innate and developing creativity to contribute to the global conversation as well as contribute to the family purse

*growing in community

I hope you'll come with me on this journey to blossoming. 

And then the day came, 
when the risk
to remain tight 
in a bud 
was more painful 
than the risk 
it took 
to Blossom.
Risk - Anaïs Nin

advent 2011: Monday of Peace

We return to Isaiah, to the prophecies of old that would set the stage for Jesus' birth and ministry. This is one of my favourite passages, at any time of the year. From Isaiah 60:

Arise, Jerusalem, and shine like the sun; 
   The glory of the Lord is shining on you!
 ² Other nations will be covered by darkness, 
   But on you the light of the Lord will shine; 
   The brightness of his presence will be with you.
 ³ Nations will be drawn to your light, 
   And kings to the dawning of your new day.

Waiting in Peace...for the Light.

advent 2011: Sunday of Peace

This is a day late, but here is what we read yesterday. The second half of the annunciation: Gabriel's visit to Joseph. From Matthew 1:

¹⁸ This was how the birth of Jesus Christ took place. His mother Mary was engaged to Joseph, but before they were married, she found out that she was going to have a baby by the Holy Spirit.¹⁹ Joseph was a man who always did what was right, but he did not want to disgrace Mary publicly; so he made plans to break the engagement privately.²⁰ While he was thinking about this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, 
         Joseph, descendant of David, do not be afraid to take Mary to be your wife. For it is by the Holy Spirit that she has conceived.²¹ She will have a son, and you will name him Jesus—because he will save his people from their sins.

   

 ²² Now all this happened in order to make come true what the Lord had said through the prophet,²³ 
         A virgin will become pregnant and have a son, and he will be called Immanuel (which means,
         God is with us).

 ²⁴ So when Joseph woke up, he married Mary, as the angel of the Lord had told him to.²⁵ But he had no sexual relations with her before she gave birth to her son. And Joseph named him Jesus.

Waiting in Peace...for an unexpected son.

advent 2011: Wednesday of Hope

Today we’re reading from the prophet Isaiah, continuing the look back at why the people were waiting and who they were hoping would come. Having read about Zechariah and Elizabeth and the foretelling of the birth of John the Baptist, we’ll look at the role he would play. From Isaiah 40:

 ³ A voice cries out,

         Prepare in the wilderness a road for the Lord!
      Clear the way in the desert for our God!
 ⁴ Fill every valley;
      level every mountain.
   The hills will become a plain,
      and the rough country will be made smooth.
 ⁵ Then the glory of the Lord will be revealed,
      and all people will see it.
   The Lord himself has promised this.


Waiting in hope...for a Path Maker.

advent 2011: Tuesday of Hope

Today we went back, back to the prophet Micah, to read about why the people of Israel had been waiting for Jesus. Who were they expecting? What were they hoping for? A peacemaker. From Micah 4: 3-4:

 He will settle disputes among the nations,       among the great powers near and far.    They will hammer their swords into plows       and their spears into pruning knives.    Nations will never again go to war,       never prepare for battle again.  Everyone will live in peace       among their own vineyards and fig trees,       and no one will make them afraid.    The Lord Almighty has promised this. 

We wait in hope.