Soon

I unlock the door and step inside, cool air hitting me as I kick off my snow covered boots and slip into my shoes. I haven't been here all month, Advent progressing without my presence.

Methodically I go about my duties in the silent church. I turn up the heat, pull the dust cloth off the altar. In the space of a few minutes I set up the altar, pour water into the font, place the Ciborium, the wafers, the water, the wine on the table by the entrance. I turn and dip my finger in the font and say a prayer.

I make my way to the fourth pew from the front. I kneel in the silence and solitude and tell God how ornery and resistant I feel. That I don't know why I am there, just that I am. After a while I am quiet, glad for the grace to be honest and raw before God.

Soon I can hear people stamping the snow off their boots, snow that has fallen every sinlge day this past week, as they come up the wooden steps of the church. They, too bring a blast of cold air in with them.

One hundred times out of a hundred that I come here I am the lector during the Mass. A pity party builds within me as I consider this. I rise and go to various neighbours, asking them to do the readings. I don't tell them I just want to sit in my seat, that I have no desire to contribute, that I don't want to do a thing.

We are few in number. Very few. A handful at best. It's Advent. There are four candles to light. When the priests finds out I'm not doing any readings he asks me to light one of the candles. I see several faces turned my way at his request. He's wrecking my firm intention to not participate. I tell him grumpily that I don't want to but I will. Harrumph.

So we process in and as we wait for the last strains of the entrance song to fade I consider how my orneriness is contributing negatively to the atmosphere. In my head comes a picture of Jesus and a small child. A small child having a whale of a temper tantrum with Jesus holding them by the back of their shirt, suspended in mid air kicking and hollering and carrying on, arms and legs flailing like an airplane hitting turbulence. Jesus can barely restrain himself from having an all out belly laugh. A small smile escapes my lips despite my resolve to be ornery to the end.

When my turn comes my candle won't light. I tip it and let wax drip away but still it resists the flame. The priest comes and together we get it lit. It glows faintly beside the others whose flames reach for the ceiling.

Eventually I thaw out emotionally enough to participate. I still feel the faint pressure of my heels digging in, not wanting to abandon myself to the moment. There is relief in prayer, even if its just to say that I feel empty, absolutely empty. At the end of Mass I consider Advent, the darkness I feel inside and out. Father Charlie has told me many times that beautiful flowers grow in the desert. "Fuck the desert" I think to myself. Been there done that as the saying goes. Every winter.

Soon the darkness will break.

Come O come, Emmanuel.

Running Late

I slept in this morning and am running late. I need to be out the door in 15 minutes. It's my sponsor's AA birthday today so I'm headed to town to celebrate with her. It's also the first day of Advent and that means I can start decorating. Ha, as if that's all Advent is about! I love Advent. The idea of hunkering down and waiting for the Light. It was during Advent a few years ago that I started getting honest with myself and God about my sexual addiction. Here's a post from back then, more for a reminder for me than anything.
Enjoy your day!

Peeking At Jesus

I will never win an award for housekeeping.
I am surrounded by sister-in-laws who keep orderly houses
as if it is no effort at all. I have never seen their homes
in the kind of disarray mine is in on a regular basis.
Not even when I've popped in unannounced.
One of them who has things just so.
I love the way it looks.
It isn't uncomfortable, just so orderly.
I sometimes ask dearest one if he doesn't wish
our house was like that.
He shudders and says no.
I know he would do something on purpose to wreck
the orderliness of it if I all of a sudden
improved my housekeeping skills.
He'd drop his coat in the middle of the floor and leave it there just
to remind me to relax a little. Which often baffles me because he is an
orderly person by nature.
I often feel bad he married someone who
has to work so hard to pick up after herself.
I do pick up after myself but it might be several weeks in the coming.
And I squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle, too.

I used to be an all or nothing person when it came to housekeeping.
Either total chaos or complete spotlessness.
Woe to anyone who wrecked the couch cover which
wrinkled up if someone so much as sat on it.
I don't miss those days.

Yesterday I spent the bulk of the day cleaning and
getting rid of piles of papers and such.
Last night I plugged in the mini Christmas lights
that have been on the top of the kitchen cupboards
for several years already.
I always mean to take them down, or at least vacuum
the dust off them, in between one Christmas and another
but so far it's just a pleasant thought.
When I plugged them in last night and surveyed the cleaned off
countertops and the warm glow I thought to myself,
"Yes, it's that time of year again."

I unwrapped the Advent calendar and set it up on the diningroom table. A table that a few hours earlier was strewn with newspapers and books and empty tea cups and the like. The calendar has sparkles and a nativity scene. I haven't had one like that for years. The stores here only offer ones of Santa Claus or Mickey Mouse. It always strikes me as odd to have Advent calendars like that. I don't think they call them Advent calendars, though. Just 24 numbered little doors with chocolates in them. When I was a child my great aunt (the one who I've modeled the novel on) bought an Advent calendar for the girls bedroom and one for the boys. I loved that little calendar. It had sparkles and a Nativity scene. I also couldn't wait to see what was behind those little doors. I remember my panic when I went ahead and peaked behind number 24 and then tried to make it stick back down like I hadn't opened it. It was one of those things that migh set my mom off and well, it would have been a little, okay a lot, ironic to beat a kid for peeking at Jesus, you know?

Well, didn't this post veer off into something I didn't see coming. There's no neat and tidy way to wrap it up either. I'm just thankful that clean house or not, impatience at waiting, or what.have.you Jesus embraces us in it all.

Let There Be Light

A new day.
I laid in bed this morning for a while and prayed.
I feel really calm.
And full of hope.
Whatever life throws my way today
I don't have to handle all on my own.
It's good to know that.

I'm headed to town for my AA meeting.
The roads are in decent condition.
I have no inkling to go into the mall.
For some reason all the holiday decorations are driving me batty.
They're disorientating.
Is that even a word?
All the decorations and hype in the stores make me feel dizzy.

I am however, looking forward to the beginning of Advent.
I'm really glad that the first day of Advent is the last day of NaNoWriMo.

From Darkness To Light

I've had this link bookmarked for a while now. It's worth checking out.

Advent Conspiracy

An Offer Of Clarity

Today I read from an Advent devotional guide by Joyce Rupp:

" We can have the best eyes in the world, but in pitch black darkness, our eyes are of little use to us. We need light in order to see our way. Advent is a season for Christ, our Light, to break through our spiritual darkness. When I consider the shadows that pervade my heart, they are usually the results of the way I see things. This seeing involves illusory notions I have of other persons, limited understandings of a situation, and unreal expectations that I foist upon others.

Sometimes my lack of seeing is due to my failure to know myself as I truly am or because my blind spots hide a part of myself from me. It always takes a while before I have the eyes to see how foolish my thoughts, feelings and actions are. I come to see more clearly when I accept the guidance and insight offered to me by the Indwelling Christ. The light of this inner guideance is essential for my spiritual growth and well being. Without this divine direction I would continually judge others falsely and unkindly.

Jesus told his disciples they were fortunate to be able to see what they did. He helped them look beyond and beneath their limited perceptions to the deeper reality of each one's goodness. Jesus continually guided his disciples by the light of his message, encouraging them to understand and accept the kingdom of love. It was up to them to follow and live out the clarity he offered to them.

~ Joyce Rupp in Welcome to the Light (emphasis added)

When I wrote the other day about my dream

"I so often try to arrange life to suit me and the hell with everyone else. A few weeks ago I had a dream where I was trying to sleep and was woken up to find a scary man trying to lure me away. In desperation, I pulled out my stand-back-and-no-one-will-get-hurt expletive and told him to "fuck off". In reply he leaned down to me and said, "It takes just as many breaths to say God bless." "

I wondered if I could ask God to bless those scary parts of me instead of trying to keep them at a distance. How often have I told my skeletons-in-the-closet-who-are-kicking-up-a-storm-to-get-out to shut the fuck up so I can have some peace and quiet? I've lost count. As if keeping them at a distance will ever bring me any peace. I've been pondering what peace could be mine if I embraced all-that-hinders-me and offered it up to the Light. Asked what it would look like to have awareness without fear of what the scary places might reveal about myself to myself. Realizing the possibility of seeing myself as I am without letting the less than stellar parts define me.

While waiting for the Light I feel like I'm a child hunkered down with my arms around my knees, facing east, waiting for the sun to crest the horizon. I do not sit alone. I've taken my shadowy side by the hand and invited it to sit with me as I wait. I'm not sure I'm ready to call it friend but I'm more at peace since it stopped trying to kick the door in to get my attention.

Waiting For Hope

If you ask my family they won't be surprised that my Hope candle lamp and the nativity are displayed to the world already. Yes, being cooped up in the house while it was -45C outside had something to do with it. There are only so many distractions in our small home to keep me occupied. Tomorrow the weather will be much closer to normal and I will be filling in for the librarian at our local library. But in all honesty I have never been very good at waiting. My dad chuckles each time I actually wait to call him on his birthday. When I have bought gifts I find it hard to wait to give them on the special day. It's one of few childlike qualities of mine that has refused to lie dormant over the years. I do remember as a child getting this beautiful Advent calendar to share with my sisters. No chocolates in it at all but beautiful sparkly pictures beneath little windows numbered 1 to 24. I opened the Christmas Eve picture way before time and gently put the double window pieces back together to look as if I hadn't peeked. But I will never forget the wonder of that beautiful picture and how I wanted to peek again and again.

The Darkening Cusp

The daylight hours are shrinking here. With just under 8 hours of daylight now, knowing those will dwindle to just over seven in less than a month, I've found the Church's celebration of Advent gives meaning to the encroaching darkness. Advent reminds me that darkness is not the end of the story. Embracing Advent has been a hopeful alternative to the gritting of my teeth I used to do in order to get through these darkening days. Don't get me wrong. I'd be lying if I said I embraced these days with full abandon. I'm as happy as the next person to see December 22nd arrive with the knowledge of lengthening days literally on the horizon. But having a focus during the waiting helps.

A year ago I was in a very dark place. It was on the cusp of Advent that I was able to admit outloud for the first time that I struggled with sexual addiction. The paralyzing shame prompted me to write this prayer at an Advent retreat. What followed was close to 120 days of abstinence. I can still remember what it felt like to be present in the painful places; at times feeling empty, agitated, and restless. The weird but hopeful feeling to choose not to fill the gaping hole with that which could not heal it. The foreign but welcome realization that it was possible to acknowledge the gaping hole without rushing for the nearest escape route. I'm not sure I befriended the gaping hole but I learned it was possible to co-exist with it.

When youngest son moved out of our home and into the home of his 15 year old girlfriend my stringing together of one-day-at-a-times came to an end. I chose to revert back to habits of self numbing oblivion to get through abruptly becoming an empty nester.

What is that saying? It's darkest just before the dawn? By the end of the third month of being an empty nester I nearly lost my 18+ years of sobriety. Although I had always been a social drinker, becoming a closet one was starting to look inviting. Making my way to an AA meeting after an 8 or 9 year absence felt like more of a bottom than my initial steps into a meeting all those years ago. Admitting I couldn't do this recovery journey solo anymore was more humbling than a relief. I've since learned that years without a drink are entirely different than years of sobriety. I feel 95% newbie and 5% old timer at meetings.

Let Go and Let God is a recurring theme in recovery circles. Not too long ago I read somewhere you can either let go or get dragged. When I think of the verse "the truth shall set you free" maybe that's what letting go means. Perhps when I find myself getting dragged I am resisting truth. Today I experienced a moment when I was able to let go of a situation. These days I celebrate those tiny victories. It was a moment of "oh, that's not my problem to comment on, let alone fix."

Letting go is what I am bringing down with me into the darkness to chew on this Advent. This post has given me focus as I prepare to hunker down and wait for the Light.