The Imperfect Path

It is cold and snowy, the kind of day that usually keeps me indoors and using my finger labyrinth instead of my out door one. But for some reason today is different, even though it is covered in snow to the point I can barely see the path and only in places at that, I am drawn to go out and walk Hope’s Labyrinth.

It is quiet out here, the earth blanketed in snow and I feel connected in a very quiet and peaceful way to this abiding beauty. I’ve never done this, walked the outdoor labyrinth without being able to see the path. Taking my first step is very much an act of faith, faith that I will remember this path that I have walked thousands of times before.

Walking today feels so much different, I find myself focused on each step, my feet searching to find the remembered path. My heart is unusually calm and unconcerned about finding the “right” path. This is a bit unusual for this perfectionist. I had expected to be a bit distressed if I found myself making a less than perfect path on my labyrinth journey. Perhaps all these years of labyrinth walking have finally taken root in my heart. That I have finally learned that it is less about how the walking is done, what the path looks like and more about the fact that it is just being walked.

I now understand why I have never walked my labyrinth in the snow; I was too busy worrying about not being able to see the path. Today perhaps I was ready to finally let go of following my preset rules about walking the set out path of the Hope’s Labyrinth. Perhaps the blanket of snow helped me to see that Hope’s Labyrinth is more than just the path, but it’s entire 14 ft. x 14 ft. square area is a place of sacred quiet. It is a place to let go of all of my set out notions of how things should be and let myself find the freedom and connection that comes in just journeying.

I finished my walk, short as it was. It was really cold! I stopped at the entrance and looked back on my footsteps, the circles uneven and the turns unequally taken. And it was beautiful, because it was my path, chosen and walked by me. Its imperfection beautiful. I took a picture to remind me of today’s journey. To remind me that Hope’s Labyrinth really is a labyrinth for all seasons.

Quiet Gifts

Amidst the falling snow,
And piles of torn wrapping paper,
A silent moment is found.

The quiet ahh.....
 Of grace come in the warmth of a newborn baby.
 Of hope heard in the giggles of a babe laying in a manger.

 Or maybe it is the silent moment of remembrance -
 Of those not gathered around the table.
 Through tears of grief of losses that are hard to voice.
 That for some today is just hard.

 It is in the silent moment where space is given by the Christ Child.
 Where all are welcomed to his birth,
 Just as we are,
 With whatever it is that we are feeling in our hearts.

 It is in the silence that Christ surrounds us with love unconditional,
And the hope of healing offered to a broken and hurting world.

 The only thing asked of us...
 Is that we open our hearts to the gifts the Christ Child offers us.

Finding Advent in the Stopping

It is Sunday morning as I write this. Snow, Ice and severely sub-zero temperatures have effectively brought our family to a steadily slowing halt. In the interest of safety our church decided to cancel services and so I have found myself with a rare day of unplanned freedom from obligations.  As I looked out on the snowy back yard after a morning of pajamas and family snuggles the following poured out of my heart.

Go, Do, Prepare.

Shop, Sing, Bake.

Plan, Wrap, Decorate.

It seems the to do list has lost its priorities.

Where is…

                        Slow down, listen, be present.

                        Marvel, simplify, wonder.

                        Breathe in, breath out, prepare heart.

It’s Sunday and the snow came

And the temperature plummeted.

Safety was considered.

No church to attend this morning.

But wait….Church was attended

Only in a wholly different way.

By staying home, slowing down, snuggling with those dearest.

Worshiping at the dinning table around our Advent wreath.

Today Holy preparation was found.

In the stopping and just being.

In the permissive space of nothing to do,

But just be.

Never before have I felt so clearly

Advent Peace, Hope, Love, Joy.

Now I feel prepared…

to welcome your Child, Jesus to this earth once again.

Thank you and Amen.

Napkin Notes

My daughter takes her lunch to school most days and from the day she started kindergarten I have been writing her a short note on her napkin. These notes are short messages of my love, encouragement for her day, and a reminder to find some fun and adventure in her day. Every once in a while I will even include a silly face or cartoonish drawing just to spice it up a bit. She looks forward to these notes, and one year all the kids at her table also looked forward to seeing what her note said that day.

As she got older and learned to write better, notes started appearing on napkins in my lunch. Short, sweet reminders of her love for me, that I am the best mom in the world, wishes for a good day. And they always seem to show up on days that I need them most. I got one on Tuesday telling me “I love U very much. xoxoxo.”  Only the “ I” was drawn as an actual eye and the “love” was a heart.

It was timely because the day before I had been trying to survive a nasty headache. It made me grumpy, short tempered, and generally not fun to be around. And after my not so great mommy day of the day before, she shows me grace and love in her napkin note to me.

This week our church lit the third Advent candle, for us it was Love. CJ's and my napkin notes to each other are really love notes. And my contemplative focused spirit got to thinking, what would an Advent napkin note from God look like? I like to think that each one of our napkin notes would be just a bit different; specially written to each one of us. This is what I imagine my napkin note from God to be to me this Advent season.

                    Dear Precious Child,

                    I love the intentionality that you enter into Advent with. Your careful preparation of your

                    spirit and the guiding preparation of your family bring me joy. Please remember, these

                    spiritual times do not have to be complicated or perfect. I just want you to spend time

                    with me. I want you to find the Peace, Hope, Love, and Joy of the advent season as

                    simply as you can. And if in the mist of your life caring for my children, creation and 

                    those that I have entrusted to your care a day here or there gets missed, please don’t feel

                    guilty, just try again tomorrow. I know you are doing your best.

                                                                                                I love you, ALWAYS.

                                                                                                            God

What does your napkin note from God say to you?

Labyrinth paths and Advent Candles

Once again this week I have found myself reflecting more on my relationship with Advent. This week, my thoughts took a more, joy filled and contemplative turn. Even though it is cold enough to force me to pull out the winter coat and gloves I find myself going out most every morning to walk my labyrinth. As I let my gaze fall on the view around me I saw golden leaves in piles on green grass, flowering plants in varying stages of going into hibernation, and of course several resilient weeds doting the path of the labyrinth – all of it touched by a blanket of frost. Nature moving into its place of quiet rest and preparation for the glory that bursts forth in spring.

My soul rejoiced, how beautiful this is, this juxtaposition of growing and resting. Seeing this, just days, after the first Sunday of Advent drew my thoughts to why Advent has become my favorite part of the Christmas season. Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas, but my contemplative soul feeds off the season of inward preparation that Advent provides. The spiritual practices of advent wreaths and specially chosen devotions draw me into the spirit of preparation. It is the same reason that I like Lent.

I was recently reading an article by Diana Butler Bass and part of it spoke to the idea that part of Advent is anticipatory preparation. This really resonated with me. It reminds me that my spiritual practices do not always have to be heavily weighted in serious reflection on where I am falling short. But that there is room for and necessity for spiritual practices that are infused with joy, play and hopeful preparation of heart and soul.

My contemplative self, thrives in this place of anticipatory spiritual preparation. It is in this space that I am able to see the beauty of green grass and brown dead leaves and find the hope in dying flowers that will spread their seeds for next spring. It is here that I can seriously reflect deep into my soul one minute and find rejuvenation in laughter of the silliest kind with my daughter.

It is this space of anticipation that gives permission to not sweat the fact that I forgot to buy the purple and pink advent candles for our family wreath this year and instead gives room for using the scavenged unused or once used candles I had around the house. I actually love the result of our wreath decorated this year with three red and one blue candle. It has such a different feel, these colors that are associated with Christmas and not the purple that I associate with Lent. There is a lighter feeling of expectation instead of the heavier weightiness of how long until the Christ Candle.

I am learning that there is no right or wrong when it comes to preparing my heart and soul for the birth of Christ. What is important is that I am doing the work of preparing. So this season I am preparing with anticipation of the birth of Christ. Anticipation for me brings joy and excitement, feelings much needed by me right now. I am choosing to let go of traditions and practices of this season if they no longer speak to my soul. And instead am embracing the colors and practices that sing out to my contemplative self. And in doing so I am finding myself naturally easing into a place of contentment of the season.

I would like to invite you to consider if are there practices of habit in your Advent season that you might need to let go of to create space for anticipatory preparation. What is it that is speaking to your soul this Advent season and helping you to find your place of contented, anticipatory preparation for the birth of Christ?

Advent Peace - Advent Guilt

Advent has arrived and with it our tree is up and the spiritual journey is underway with both family and mother/daughter devotions around the advent wreath. Overall, it is a fairly normal (if there is such a thing) Advent. On further reflection, if I’m honest, I’ve found myself inhabiting a weird place of grief.  No, grief and guilt. It is a truth that for women and families that experience fertility issues and/or pregnancy loss and infant death that Advent and the hopeful waiting towards the birth of Christ can be painful and a struggle to get through. After six years on this journey I find myself finally reflecting deeply and intentionally on my own relationship with Advent as a bereaved mother. And I have come to the conclusion that it is complicated.

The part of me that is deeply connected to contemplative spirituality and spiritual rituals looks forward every year to putting up the Advent wreath and choosing the devotional material for our family worship around it. This year my daughter and I are slowly coloring our way through an Advent poster every morning before school and work. I love these moments, I love planning for them. I love guiding my daughter through Advent to Christmas with a strong spiritual focus on the reason we celebrate Advent. I don’t feel the ache in my heart of what should have been with our second child until we light the candle of Hope. Hope, our child’s name, and am stopped in my journey with emotion. These are the emotions of the heartbreak of grief and the guilt that Advent does not remind me in a deeply emotional way of my Baby Hope. Then I remember that I have chosen to honor my baby Hope by living fully into my life, and for me that also means choosing to find joy and peace in the waiting for Baby Jesus to arrive. But sometimes it gets complicated because when the feelings sneak up, even after six years, I think I should have a handle on it. I have to remind myself there is no timeline with this forever grief, and it is ok to not have a handle on it some days, even six years later.

Guilt crept up again as we put up the tree. CJ has her own collection of ornaments, and earlier in the year she was commenting on how Hope did not even have one ornament of her own. CJ was very intentional about remembering to put up the purple snowflake on the tree that she received at the bereavement walk we did in October (you can read that blog here). It was important to her that her never-born sibling have Hope’s very own ornament on the tree, just like CJ has her own ornaments. Because I knew how important that was to her, I had planned on us putting Hope’s snowflake on the tree together, taking a moment to remember. In the hustle and bustle of decorating, CJ put the ornament on herself  - no ritual or special moment of remembering done together. I felt guilty; something that important should be guided by me. But then again maybe not.  Maybe that needed to be CJ’s thing as Hope’s sister, done in her own way. Then I felt a bit sad and left out. Like I said, sometimes it’s complicated.

And amidst all the Advent and Christmas preparation, parenting and life continue. Adding in piano lessons for CJ making it a total of 3 activities she is in. It was never to be more than two, but she is an extrovert and needs the interaction. As I sit down with my calendar trying to balance the schedule for school, work, her activities, my self-care, church, down-time as a family, my thoughts immediately go to wondering "how would I have ever done this with two kids? ". And a guilty feeling of contentment being mother to my one living daughter comes over me. When these moments hit, the guilt looms large, like I have tossed my dear Baby Hope aside. That is not the case at all. I would have embraced the crazy chaos that comes with more than one child, oh so willingly, if that had been our future. But I have also chosen to honor my second child by embracing the life and family that has been given to me, and that my husband, daughter and I make together. Embracing means living into the fullness of the type of mother I am able to be now, in the life I have now.

When the guilt looms large, I try to think of my baby Hope moving in just a bit closer, reminding me it is ok to experience Joy, Love, Peace, and Hope. It is ok to be happy and content in the place I am. So this Advent season I am choosing to live into the PEACE, HOPE, JOY AND LOVE of the Advent candles. But I also know it will always be just a bit more complicated for me living in this place of remembering, honoring and living life. And that is ok too.