Our Place Holy

 Well, it’s the Winter Solstice (yay, longer days ahead!), and somehow we once again survived the end of the world. And God is STILL speaking, even if the Mayans aren’t! Things are in a flurry here in the office, where Cathy and Jessie have been working hard to print bulletins for FOUR different services (the 23^rd, 30^th, and 2 Christmas Eve services). And our bulletin angels came in to stuff them so that we can come and worship. Many others have worked hard to make this a special season in the church – THANK YOU to all of you who have so faithfully and cheerfully offered your time and gifts!

I want to extend a special thank you to Monica Bosworth-Viscuso and all those who helped make the Advent Garden a sacred and beautiful experience for children and their families. As we hold in our hearts all those who are grieving losses this holiday season, especially those who have lost children, we also cherish and celebrate the gift of babies and children who bless our lives with wonder and joy.

Whether you will be with us in body or in spirit, I am thankful for your presence this Christmastide. In the flurry of activity and preparations, I hope you can take some time to breathe and recognize the wonder and holiness of this present moment. I’ll leave you with this poem from one of my favorite poets and writers, Wendell Berry:

Remembering that it happened once,

We cannot turn away the thought,

As we go out, cold, to our barns

Toward the long night’s end, that we

Ourselves are living in the world

It happened in when it first happened,

That we ourselves, opening a stall

(A latch thrown open countless times

Before), might find them breathing there,

Foreknown: the Child bedded in straw,

The mother kneeling over Him,

The husband standing in belief

He scarcely can believe, in light

That lights them from no source we see,

An April morning’s light, the air

Around them joyful as a choir.

We stand with one hand on the door,

Looking into another world

That is this world, the pale daylight

Coming just as before, our chores

To do, the cattle all awake,

Our own white frozen breath hanging

In front of us; and we are here

As we have never been before,

Sighted as not before, our place

Holy, although we knew it not.

(from A Timbered Choir by Wendell Berry)

Blessings, peace, and the light of Christ to you,

Manda

Note: I will be on vacation from December 26, returning to the office on January 7. If you have an emergency pastoral need, please call the church office for the phone number for the Rev. Wayne Gustafson, who will be providing emergency care if needed.

 

Texts For This Week:  
Psalms           Psalm 116
Gospels         John 1:1-14