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 23rd, 30th, 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.