Second week of advent.

Today marks the second Sunday of the season of Advent. There are traditionally themes for each Sunday during the four weeks acknowledged by the lighting of a candle. There is some variance amongst those who honor this tradition in regards to exactly what those themes are and the order in which they are honored. In general they encompass hope, expectation of renewal, faith, preparation, waiting, peace, joy, love and adoration.

Each of these themes may carry a different meaning this year as we head into another time of increasing Covid cases and stay at home orders. I know this may be a discouraging time for many people who have to change plans and traditions in order to honor the safety of themselves and others. Yes there is much loss and grief but perhaps we can also use this as an opportunity to lean into the quiet stillness of the season. Perhaps we can allow these themes to make their way into our being in new ways. Perhaps we can cultivate and feed them in order to offer them up to the whole.

May your mind be open.

May your heart be wide.

May your body be at ease.

May you re-member yourself.

With love,

Heather

Here are a few of the readings from this week's pauses:

"Inner Life of Being

Bearing Christ within me

Come

Waiting, anticipating, listening, watching, allowing, opening, suspended in love,

Attending to, relating to what may be and what may come.

Embrace my inner life, allowing it place in my outer life.

Christ becoming, my becoming,

Flowing into and through the landscape of my body, soul, and spirit.

Come Come Come"

— Alan Krema

"The season of Advent means there is something on the horizon the likes of which we have never seen before ... What is possible is to not see it, to miss it, to turn just as it brushes past you. And you begin to grasp what it was you missed, like Moses in the cleft of the rock, watching God’s [back] fade in the distance. So stay. Sit. Linger. Tarry. Ponder. Wait. Behold. Wonder. There will be time enough for running. For rushing. For worrying. For pushing. For now, stay. Wait. Something is on the horizon."

— Jan L. Richardson

Advent Blessings

Extravagant Stillness

Be patient, my heart.

The time of the cave is coming.

The season of quiet.

The deep drink of stillness

you have been thirsting for.

Secret, luminous darkness.

Fruitful, radiant night.

Your access has been paid.

All year you have made

an offering of your life,

Flung your treasures into the

clamoring hands of the world.

You have lost yourself in the lyrics,

Recollected yourself in the silence,

Forgotten again and again

where you come from,

Where you are meant to return.

Return.

You have filled your belly

with the season’s harvest,

Grown robust on bowls of chile and beans,

Apple muffins spread with honey.

You have split and stacked your kindling,

patched your cloak.

There is nothing left undone.

Drop the distractions, now,

and head home.

The door is open. Go in.

Deeper and deeper inward.

Enter the womb of the world

and take refuge there.

This is not the season of sorrow,

but of gratitude.

The extravagant, fiery beauty of autumn

heralds the coming of the holy quiet.

Be still.

Be wildly, voluptuously quiet.

Embrace your solitude like the child

you never thought you could birth,

Like the lover

you thought had died in the war,

who parts the curtains

of your innermost chamber

in the middle of the night

and slips into bed beside you.

— Mirabai Starr

“We are all meant to be mothers of God. What good is it to me if this eternal birth of the divine Son takes place unceasingly but does not take place within myself? And what good is it to me if Mary is full of grace if I am not also full of grace? What good is it to me for the Creator to give birth to his Son if I also do not give birth to him in my time and my culture? This, then, is the fullness of time. When the Son of God is begotten in us.”

— Meister Eckhart

Light of the world:

As my little spot on this earth

tilts away from the

warming sun, as days

continue to shorten

while shadows lengthen,

and cold winds turn rain to snow,

I am ready. I am ready for this

season of waiting, anticipation,

hope, slowing down, and

embracing darkness even while

yearning for light.

I am ready to light a candle

in the night, a bold prayer

and declaration that

I am ready to receive the

gifts of incarnation:

God among us,

here, now.

Amen

— Wendy Janzen