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A Tale of Two Advents

 

Waiting?

Who in the world has time to wait?

For God’s sake I’m trying to accomplish things.

Write, parent, cook, teach, be a friend, watch a sunrise.

Serve those without homes, not walk right by them on the sidewalk

on the way to a lavish dinner.

 

Preparing?

Oh sure. Loads of that. Multitasking always.

Why just cook when you can also do laundry, check email, update facebook and watch a youtube on how to cut up a pomegranate?

And why just pack for the next trip when you could also be cleaning out a closet or drawer or sorting last week’s mail?

Wrap, write, sort, send, give, do, decide, show.

 

Attending?

Coffee hour, Christmas parties, play dates, charity fun run, meetings.

Showing up with reserve batteries on for brainpower.

A kind of attending but with only half a heart, half a mind, half a gesture.

 

And yet another deeper story . . .

 

Waiting

In the quiet dark listening for the nothingness of presence

Returning ever so gently to a sheltered word

Regathering fragments of self and love and hope and joyfulness

Releasing them into the silence

 

Preparing

To receive some grace that I didn’t earn

Some happiness I didn’t invent

Some purpose I did not insist

But which are mine and were prepared by ones who love me

 

Attending

To the smallest inklings of ideas just crowning in the birth canal of new life

Lost shards of grief and wonder mingled and lodged in muscle and sinew

The passing on of long-cherished sentinels of my soul

So the spirit might make way again and break forth

And sing a song with Mary

 

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