Diana

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Five

December 5, 2013 By Diana

Give the king your justice, O God,
    and your righteousness to a king’s son.

May he judge your people with righteousness,
    and your poor with justice.
May the mountains yield prosperity for the people,
    and the hills, in righteousness.
May he defend the cause of the poor of the people,
    give deliverance to the needy,
    and crush the oppressor.

May he live while the sun endures,
    and as long as the moon, throughout all generations.
May he be like rain that falls on the mown grass,
    like showers that water the earth.
In his days may righteousness flourish
    and peace abound, until the moon is no more.

Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,
    who alone does wondrous things.
Blessed be his glorious name forever;
    may his glory fill the whole earth.
Amen and Amen.
Psalm 72:1-7 18-19 – NRSV

A song for a king, written one thousand years before Jesus was born, yet somehow a song for him as well as for David. We are all ‘the needy,’ it seems to me. We need a royal visit, some patronage now and again, someone looking out for our best interests.

Is Jesus that one?

I choose to believe so, even when I’m puzzled by some of the things that happen in this world, that happen to me or the people I love. I surely don’t ‘get it’ much of the time. There are questions without answers, horrors without any visible saving grace, illness and hardship and death.

Even so, I will continue to choose this king, the one who came in squalor and loneliness, the one who doesn’t fit the job description most of us might design for a king.

Maybe that’s because we’ve got it all upside down and backwards. Maybe that’s because we are slow to know that ‘neediness’ can be defined in lots of different ways. Maybe it’s because God is in the business of standing things on their heads.

A king on a cross, that’s our story. With no political power, no financial acumen, no henchmen surrounding him to enforce whatever word he might care to proclaim. Yet he is, indeed, like “showers that water the earth,” bringing refreshment in the midst of drought, and the spring of new life to the trod-upon green.

How can this be? This kingship without the pomp and circumstance?

It’s hard for us to grasp this truth, to release our expectations and look instead for the Humble One, the Broken One, the One who was left to die on the garbage heap outside of town.

But look we must, and it starts with the simplest of things. The bloom of late roses, the angle of light across a wooden floor, the scent of sweetness on the evening breeze, if you live where I do. Where you are, it might come from the smoke spiraling up the chimney, the glistening of white on every twig, the bracing coldness of the frozen air. Small things, tiny points of light. Reminders that the King of the Universe disguises himself as a helpless newborn, spilled out onto the straw.

King Jesus! We call you that in ways we don’t begin to understand, yet we know them to be true. Remind us again of what royalty really looks like, help us to look for the rain, the moisture poured out in a dry and thirsty land. Help us to see you.

* As an added Advent bonus, I heartily recommend you click on this link and meander over to SheLoves fine post on Random Acts of Advent Kindness. I’m going to try and do this as often as possible and I encourage you all to check it out for yourselves.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, Beauty, biblical reflection, church year, Encouragement, prayer, Uncategorized

Holy Ground in the Lunchroom

December 4, 2013 By Diana

Wednesday is my day to take my Mom out to lunch.
She lives in a dementia unit nearby, a lovely place.
She loves her room, she thinks the food is great,
and she talks about moving almost every time we are together.

I get that, I do.
All my life, my mom has been a restless soul.
She loved to move the furniture around,
to create beautiful tableaus on tabletops,
counters, corners.
She dreamed of traveling,
and she did a fair amount of it, too,
and she often wondered if there was
more she could be doing with her life.

There are days when my mother forgets she is old.
Why not? She forgets lots of other things, too.
And I think there are days when she just
rebels against the whole idea!

And I get that, too.
I’m not crazy about all the indignities
that come with an aging body.

Today, she forgot to put her ‘teeth’ in,
a bridge across the back of her mouth,
and a ‘flipper’ in the front.
Usually, you cannot tell that her
front teeth are fake,
and you can never see that bridge.

But today, there was no denying it —
there was a gaping hole where her teeth should have been.
And her blouse was gaping in a few places, too.
One of the drugs she takes — which has almost
eliminated some troubling auditory hallucinations —
very occasionally causes weight gain in a small number of patients.

And, of course! given our genetic heritage,
my mom is one of that number.
She looks beautiful always, but a few of her clothes —
especially blouses that button — just don’t work as well
as they used to work.

And part of me found these small things
deeply troubling and sad,
further evidence of the ways in which
my mother, as I have known her,
is slowly disappearing.

But as I’ve thought about it and prayed about it
throughout this afternoon and evening,
I believe I’ve been given a gift today,
an answer to the pleading of my heart,
my begging prayer for a way to love my mother
exactly as she is right now,
a teary request to find a path through the sorrow.

So tonight, I look back on our time together,
and I see my mother in an almost ethereal light,
I remember a radiance that I cannot explain except to say
that Jesus lives in her —
the her she once was, and the her she is at this minute.
And that lunchroom where we sat?

Holy ground.

It was cold and blustery today,
too cold to take mom outside her facility,
too cold to go up and sit by the pool, as we often do.
So we sat together at the familiar tables
of her dining room, quietly enjoying
a turkey sandwich, Waldorf salad, jello.

And I watched as my mother smiled her beautiful smile
at every single person she saw.
I listened as she said to the aide,
“How would I get through a day without you?”
I heard her tell me, after we returned to her room,
and I set up a few small Christmas decorations,
“Oh, how lovely! Thank you so much, Diana.
I love you so much, I’m so glad you came today.”

By this time, we had found her teeth.
I had persuaded her to give me the blouse,
to store with her spring clothes,
which sit in a bin in my guest room.
She donned a new knit pullover shirt
in a beautiful magenta color. . .

And there were no more gaps.

The truth is, there never had been.

Thanks be to God.

Joining this tonight with Ann, Jennifer, Jen, Emily and Heather:

Filed Under: Aging, Beauty, family, Hard Things, hope, personal journey, The Journey with Mom

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Four

December 4, 2013 By Diana

Sing, O barren one who did not bear;
burst into song and shout,
you who have not been in labor!
For the children of the desolate woman will be more
than the children of her that is married, says the Lord.
Enlarge the site of your tent,
and let the curtains of your habitations be stretched out;
do not hold back; lengthen your cords
and strengthen your stakes.
For you will spread out to the right and to the left,
and your descendants will possess the nations
and will settle the desolate towns.

Do not fear, for you will not be ashamed;
do not be discouraged, for you will not suffer disgrace;
for you will forget the shame of your youth,
and the disgrace of your widowhood you will remember no more.
For your Maker is your husband,
the Lord of hosts is his name;
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer,
the God of the whole earth he is called.
For the Lord has called you
like a wife forsaken and grieved in spirit,
like the wife of a man’s youth when she is cast off,
says your God.
For a brief moment I abandoned you,
but with great compassion I will gather you.
In overflowing wrath for a moment
I hid my face from you,
but with everlasting love I will have compassion on you,
says the Lord, your Redeemer.
This is like the days of Noah to me:

Just as I swore that the waters of Noah
would never again go over the earth,
so I have sworn that I will not be angry with you
and will not rebuke you.
For the mountains may depart
and the hills be removed,
but my steadfast love shall not depart from you,
and my covenant of peace shall not be removed,
says the Lord, who has compassion on you.
Isaiah 54:1-10 -NRSV

The writing in the book of Isaiah reduces me to tears on a regular basis. The cadence and rhythm of the words, the glory of the truths proclaimed, the beauty of the God who loves despite frustration, despite disappointment. The forward thrust of it all is what I cling to, I think. The acknowledgement that things are difficult at times, that shame is alive and well on planet earth, but . . .

The love of God will prevail, the peace of God will sustain, the compassion of God will triumph. These are words to cling to when disasters circle our globe, when despots rule, when unspeakable things happen. These are the words of hope.

Where are you finding hope right now? Where do you see glimmers of light?

I see it in the faces of my family, in the honest searching of my eldest grandsons, the gleeful gaming of the middle boys, the playful willfulness of my youngest granddaughters. I see it in the tired eyes of my son who works far too hard as a hospice doctor, in the creative hospitality of my daughters and daughter-in-law, in the gentle goodness of my sons-in-law, in the faithful commitment of my husband

I see it in the blueness of the sky, I hear it in the birds calling across the yard, in the waves crashing and receding, in the green, green, greenness of every tree and bush.

And I find it in your faces, in your words, in your stories.

I am grateful.

Oh Lord of hope, help us to gather up these glimmers and see your hand at work. Make us ministers of compassion to the hopeless among us, bringers of joy to those who are shamed, and believers in your goodness, no matter what.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, Beauty, biblical reflection, church year, God's gifts, prayer, Uncategorized

The Many Shades of Christmas – A Deeper Family

December 4, 2013 By Diana

Have you ever noticed how many of our favorite carols are written in a minor key? Think about it for a minute . . .

“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”

“In the Bleak Midwinter”

“Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silent”

“What Child Is This?”

“Greensleeves”

“I Wonder as I Wander”

“Carol of the Bells”

“Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”

“Coventry Carol” (“Lullay, Thou Little Tiny Child”)

These are melodically darker-hued songs, offered in a season when we are encouraged on every side to be merry, dang it! And I am more grateful than I can say for the rich texture they bring to these days before Christmas.

Why?

Because there are many pieces of this story that can only be told in a minor key.

Sometimes I think we forget that Jesus came into a broken world, that there were no colored lights, and certainly no tinsel around that hayloft. Yes, yes — the gift of the incarnation is unspeakably good, that babe whose head was cradled by his open-hearted, willing young mother, that babe brought light and hope to us all.

But in and around the lowing of cattle, the bleating of lambs, the exhausted moans of a brand-new mom and the healthy lungs of a newborn — who can forget the cries of the mothers in Ramah, the rumbling threat of Herod, the hurried flight to Egypt, or the sorrowful truth about where that sweet baby hung his beautiful head at the end of his good, good life?

The reality of life on planet earth is that even good news, the best possible news, must be told in the midst of the bad; to get to the light, we have to walk through the dark. To truly live our story, we have to tell all the pieces of it.

So I think it’s important that the sounds of sadness, the echoes of loss, the edges of fear and uncertainty, are carefully and intentionally woven into our celebrations. All the voices in this Story, and in our own stories, cry out to be heard as we move toward the manger and the major key of Christmas Day.

I know that I have lived longer than most of you who are reading this piece. And over the course of this long life, I have experienced loss upon loss, asked question upon question, and listened for the answers in the midst of silence. If there is one thing I’ve learned, one truth that stands at the top of all the truths I know, it is this one: everyone carries a story of brokenness. Everyone.

Please join me over at A Deeper Family today to read more about singing in a minor key in this ‘hap-happiest season of all . . . “

Filed Under: A Deeper Family, Advent, biblical reflection, Christmas, Church, church year, Encouragement, grief, Lament, Music, Spiritual Formation, Waiting

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Three

December 3, 2013 By Diana

God blessed Noah and his sons: He said, “Prosper! Reproduce! Fill the Earth! Every living creature—birds, animals, fish—will fall under your spell and be afraid of you. You’re responsible for them. All living creatures are yours for food; just as I gave you the plants, now I give you everything else. Except for meat with its lifeblood still in it—don’t eat that.

“But your own lifeblood I will avenge; I will avenge it against both animals and other humans.

Whoever sheds human blood,
by humans let his blood be shed,
Because God made humans in his image
reflecting God’s very nature.
You’re here to bear fruit, reproduce,
lavish life on the Earth, live bountifully!”

Then God spoke to Noah and his sons: “I’m setting up my covenant with you including your children who will come after you, along with everything alive around you—birds, farm animals, wild animals—that came out of the ship with you. I’m setting up my covenant with you that never again will everything living be destroyed by floodwaters; no, never again will a flood destroy the Earth.”

God continued, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and everything living around you and everyone living after you. I’m putting my rainbow in the clouds, a sign of the covenant between me and the Earth. From now on, when I form a cloud over the Earth and the rainbow appears in the cloud, I’ll remember my covenant between me and you and everything living, that never again will floodwaters destroy all life. When the rainbow appears in the cloud, I’ll see it and remember the eternal covenant between God and everything living, every last living creature on Earth.”

And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I’ve set up between me and everything living on the Earth.”

Genesis 9:1-17 -The Message

God begins making promises to us right here in this narrative. We are part of the ‘everything living after you’ — all of us, men and women, old people and children, even the animals are part of this promise, this covenant agreement to never again destroy the whole earth.

I find the story of Noah to be one of the strangest and scariest in all of scripture. It’s within the first eleven chapters of Genesis, what scholars call the pre-history — richly detailed stories handed down from generation to generation, all of them stories about beginnings. Here, in the middle of this collection of ancient tales, we find evidence of God’s care for creation. So very different from the old stories of surrounding cultures, where the gods are either vindictive or petty and care little about human beings. No. The God who chose to reveal divine truth to the people who became the Hebrews is telling us something important here, something real.

Much like yesterday’s psalm, this end of the story of Noah tells us that God is on our side, that God will not forget us, that God binds us together — the divine and the human — in an unbreakable bond. That beautiful bow in the sky is a sign and a seal on that union.

Can we look for rainbows between now and Christmas? Real ones, up in the sky, if we’re so blessed by the weather. But also small bits of color, vibrancy amid the darkness, beauty in the ashes. Because, whether we’re entirely comfortable with it or not, the Noah story is a terrible story, one that should probably never be told to children. There is death and destruction on a grand scale, all at the hands of God.

But . . .

There is also the rainbow, the sign of the promise. That first big promise of good and life-giving things to come, from a God who is mysterious and unsearchable, yet who longs to be in communion with us — human creatures who are slow-witted and prone to destruction.

Us.

Let’s look for reminders as we look for the light, shall we?

Unsearchable God, we do not begin to understand all of the ways in which you work in this world. But this much we know — you are a promise-making and a promise-keeping God, a God who longs for us to live and flourish in relationship with you. Thank you.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, Beauty, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, death, Hard Things, Mystery, Spiritual Formation, Storytelling, Uncategorized

Ta Da! The Final Piece of the (in)Mercy Journey!

December 2, 2013 By Diana

Back in September, I was privileged to be a participant in the very first project from (in)Courage magazine’s commitment to raise funds for Mercy House in Kenya.

The beautiful brainchild of Kristin Welch and her family, this home provides safety, security, education, healthcare and spiritual input for twelve moms and their babies — beautiful babies whose lives have been saved from destruction because of this place, this house of mercy.

We had a total of FIVE projects to raise funds for – and the first four have been completely funded, with almost eight thousand dollars already raised for the last, and most ambitious of them all.

Project Number Five is a SECOND HOME, another living space for unwed moms and their babies, a sacred space where we can double the impact of this life-changing ministry

It’s a big challenge, a big idea, a GOD idea! And we believe that our goal can be met between now and Christmas. When you’re making out your Christmas lists this year, would you consider putting the (in)Courage (in)Mercy Phase Five home somewhere near the top?

For the last several years, the gift-exchange in our family of sixteen has included gifts purchased in honor of one another, with funds going to a variety of peace and justice causes around the world. Everything from our denominational catalog of gift ideas to World Vision to Heifer International. In addition, I purchase jewelry for loved ones from sources that provide a living wage to sisters living in poverty in Haiti, Mexico and Indonesia. And this year, I will also be making a donation in all of our names to this remarkable ministry.

Please check out the links below for more information about how you, too, can participate in this gift of love. I cannot think of a better way to honor that baby in the manger than to help provide care for moms and babies in Kenya.

You can make donations by clicking on this line, which will take you directly to the great people over at PureCharity, who have a video to watch, some of the most adorable photos you’ve ever seen in your life, and options for you to give for this final phase of our big fall project. What a challenge – and what a gift!

If you are interested in purchasing any of the (in)Mercy materials from Dayspring, you can find their webpage by clicking on this link.

Filed Under: (in)Mercy, Blogging, Christmas, community, Dreams/Dreaming, Encouragement, family, giving, hope, PureCharity, synchro blogs/blog hops

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day Two

December 2, 2013 By Diana

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side
—let Israel now say—
if it had not been the Lord who was on our side,
when our enemies attacked us,
then they would have swallowed us up alive,
when their anger was kindled against us;
then the flood would have swept us away,
the torrent would have gone over us;
then over us would have gone
the raging waters.

Blessed be the Lord,
who has not given us
as prey to their teeth.
We have escaped like a bird
from the snare of the fowlers;
the snare is broken,
and we have escaped.
Our help is in the name of the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
— Psalm 124, NRSV

We wait for the coming,
of the babe,
and of the Christ.
And every coming
is marked by this one thing,
this splendid, unique,
life-changing truth:
freedom.

“the snare is broken,
and we have escaped. . .”
This is the center,
the truth that holds
everything together.

The Lord is on our side.
Who could imagine?
On our side,
come what may,
even when what comes
brings heartache,
pain and fear.

And the truth is also this:
to know the unshackling,
to find the Presence,
there is only one way,
one road,
one thing required:

waiting.

It is in the waiting,
that we are changed,
we are saved,
we are made free.

Hallelujah.
Amen.

Teach us more about waiting, O Lord. We don’t like it, we resist and rebel, but oh! we must learn, we must. Thank you for forming us in this waiting time.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, biblical reflection, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, God's gifts, personal journey, Waiting

An Advent Journey, 2013: Looking for the Light – Day One

December 1, 2013 By Diana

There’s a day coming
when the mountain of God’s House
Will be The Mountain—
solid, towering over all mountains.
All nations will river toward it,
people from all over set out for it.
They’ll say, “Come,
let’s climb God’s Mountain,
go to the House of the God of Jacob.
He’ll show us the way he works
so we can live the way we’re made.”
Zion’s the source of the revelation.
God’s Message comes from Jerusalem.
He’ll settle things fairly between nations.
He’ll make things right between many peoples.
They’ll turn their swords into shovels,
their spears into hoes.
No more will nation fight nation;
they won’t play war anymore.
Come, family of Jacob,
let’s live in the light of God.

Isaiah 2:1-5, The Message

“All nations will river to it. . .”

Can you see it? All of humanity as a living river, ascending the Hill of the Lord to celebrate the Day of the Lord, that day when peace will reign and we will enjoy the richest of mountaintop experiences. If I close my eyes and imagine, I can make it out.

But when I return to my everyday normal, that human river seems further and further away. It feels as though we are always waiting as we live this life. From the mundane to the magnificent – we wait. . . for the dough to rise, for the sun to come out, for the sadness to lift, the questions to be answered, the sky to be rent. Because the truth of it is this: in all our waitings, we want to see Jesus.

Advent marks it out for us, this waiting. It’s a season of expectation, of longing, sometimes, of desperation. The longest night of the year happens during these weeks, ever-increasing hours of darkness punctuate the rhythm of Advent time. As we wait for Jesus to come, I find myself looking for the light, longing for it from the deep places inside my spirit. I wonder if you do, too?

If so, I invite you to ‘live in the light of God’ this Advent, to faithfully look for that light each day — right in the middle of all the hubbub, all the expectations, all the craziness. There will be some days when we’ll have to search hard to see it, but here’s the truth, here’s what I know: the light is always shining. Always. To see it requires attention and intention, a willingness to look with new eyes, and a promise to listen to the heartbeat of your life with hope and expectation. Will you come with me?

God of the Mountaintop and God of our hearts, help us to see the light of your love, even in the midst of shopping, cooking, traveling and w a i t i n g for you to come. Help us to discover you in a new way, an Advent way, as we mark off these days. Amen.

Filed Under: Advent, An Advent Journey, Beauty, biblical reflection, Christmas, church year, daily devo, Encouragement, Uncategorized, Waiting

A Letter to December

November 30, 2013 By Diana

Ah, Dear Friend,

We know each other well, do we not? So many years of immersion in all the folderol and all the richness of your seasonal gifts. Shall I list the ways?

the wedding plans, midway through my senior year of college
and all the subsequent anniversaries that got lost in the shuffle, some years more seriously than others — and there have been a lot of years, haven’t there? 48 on the 18th
a beautiful baby girl, 2nd of 2, born on the 2nd, with big brown eyes and a deliciously feisty spirit
choral concerts up the wazoo, every Christmas for most of my years until . . .
we moved to Santa Barbara for me to take a pastoral position in a church without a choir. Go figure.
writing Advent invitations for worship for about 20 years
preaching one Sunday in Advent for about 20 years, too
decorating the house with W-A-A-A-Y too many Christmas decorations, collected over the decades, starting with homemade delights from each of the kids and this year, adding some special ornaments from our moms’ collections
sweating (and swearing) our way to a steady, straight fresh tree in front of the windows; it gets harder every dang year
enjoying nativity sets collected from round the globe
singing the songs
reading the scriptures
pondering the mystery
regretting the over-spending
enjoying the gift-giving
collapsing on the 26th, exhausted but generally, more than content

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with you, I must admit. The candlelit service on Christmas Eve gets me every time. But the lugging of bins, the setting up the stuff, the overkill with gifts — yeah, that has gone above and beyond what is needful and what is healthy at points.

So, December, what’s it gonna be? Will we find our way to a happy medium this year? Just enough of the good stuff and a little less of the not-so-good?

I pledge to do my part. Can you say the same?

Fondly,

Diana

This post is written in response to a prompt from Elora Nicole at her fabulous Story Sessions site. If you would like a series of thoughtful, evocative writing invitations, if you would enjoy being connected with a smaller (but ever-growing) group of other writers, may I suggest you check this site out? Just click here to read all about it.

Filed Under: Christmas, Church, church year, Creativity, family, Fun, giving, God's gifts, Marriage, parenting, personal journey, Story Sessions Writing Prompts, worship

The Sliding of the Seasons

November 29, 2013 By Diana

Today is the day after, the sliding day, the one that marks the shift from one special day on the calendar to an entire season of special. We chose to be quiet this day, to stay at home, eat leftovers, enjoy the freshness of the sky after rain.

So I sit in my usual spot, computer on my lap, and I drink in the richness of the gifts with which we have been lavished.
Sixteen of us gathered at our son’s home, to feast and laugh and say ‘thank you.’ The chiminea was lit, the appetizers spread, and we carefully helped my mother maneuver the short distance from car to house.

Our gifted daughter-in-law had a spread worth gaping at, with contributions from her mother and my older daughter, and a magnificent bird, smoked after brining.

The table was laid, complete with candy turkeys and bright colored decor, handmade by the 3-year-old at nursery school.
Laughter floated on the breeze, children implored Poppy to play games, food was warmed and presented and appreciated.

We have about four vegetarians and one vegan in our number, and Rachel and Lisa had prepared several scrumptious dishes that they could pile on their plates. We all had a Feast.
And dessert? Fuggedaboutit. An amazing collection of things divine and delish. Joel contributed hand made Bordeaux candies, Lisa baked pumpkin cookies and hand-sized apple pies, Rachel a decadent bourbon/maple pumpkin pie. I added some lemon pie squares and mom contributed a box of See’s Nuts ‘n’ Chews. Yeah, we had enough to eat.
Luke played a little piano, the kids and young adults played a little dominoes, and to cap off the evening, those not interested in watching football had a lively conversation about lasers and accelerators and all things strange and wonderful. My mom didn’t understand a lot of it, but she loved it. I think it helped her to remember who she is – a vibrant, interesting, interested woman who is always searching to learn more. The words will be lost, but the emotions will stay around a while.
And as we carefully got mom back in the car for the drive across town, I took a last look at that candle in the middle of the table. It seemed the perfect closing image for the day – one small light in the midst of it all, a beacon, a reminder of this next season of holy waiting, this time of Advent.

On Sunday, I will begin a daily small series, an Advent journey. A photo, some scripture, a few words of reflection, a prayer. Nothing grand, nothing splendiferous, just a small offering of thanks and worship as we slide into the next season.