What Hope Looks Like

A seed catalog delivered yesterday, just as the mercury reaches 50 today and the snow has nearly melted. 

Aahhhh . . . hope!

Empty {a verb}

Full cabinets, full closets, full schedule, full belly. Even a head full of thoughts and worries. If ever there was a word that characterized the past year, it would be "full."

Full, but not satisfied.

Only in the quietness of this week -- it began during last Sunday morning's worship service, in fact -- has the thought been dancing through my head. In this next year, this next season, perhaps what I need to do is pare down, unload, release.

As one year makes way for the next, I will be here, trying to empty myself.

Practically speaking, I would do well to start in the kitchen. The cabinets, the pantry, the freezer, even the drawers in the fridge are full of the scraps and snatches of all the holidays dishes I have been making over the last weeks. Extra boxes of noodles and bags of chocolate chips, half a package of corn tortillas and a nearly full carton of buttermilk all need to find a place in a dish or a pot over the next few days.

Or it will all go to waste.

I rescued half a can of pureed pumpkin from the clutches of the garbage can just last night. Apparently, I made something with pumpkin recently, and in my haste, the excess just went in the fridge. Filling it up along with the other leftovers. But as I emptied the fridge last night, I found a use for it: a delicious loaf of pumpkin bread.

It was ironic really. In the emptying, I became satisfied.

Each area of my life could use this same discipline. My closets are full of clothes I never wear. My shelves are full of books I never read. My life is full of activities I don't enjoy.

And so I try to empty myself -- cleaning out what is otherwise wasted. Clothes that don't fit, books that don't matter, activities for no purpose, television altogether.

Even my spiritual disciplines suffer from being too full. I try to read so many Bible chapters; I try to pray for so many people; I try to give to so many causes. Check. Check. Check. But in much, I miss out. I don't sit long with Jesus; I don't persevere with a few; I don't invest deeply in one.

So even my disciplines must be emptied. I have started reading just a little of the Word, slowly, listening and contemplating. I have been asking Jesus who He wants me to pray for, to give to. I have been trying to become like him.

He, too, emptied himself.

I read this very passage from Philippians 2 on Christmas Eve morning. My friend, Kelly, and her young sons, Alex and Jensen, were here. They had already patiently endured breakfast, knowing that there were gifts to open in the back bedroom. But the pancakes had chocolate chips in them, and I let them use the straws they like. And so they waited.

Then, we gathered around the Advent wreath. We were going to light the Christ candle, the one I have continued to light each evening, so I pulled out my well-worn copy of the Book of Common Prayer to find a passage to read, and there it was. The New Testament reading for Christmas Eve was that beautiful passage from Philippians. The passage in which the Son of Man empties himself, right there before God and man.

We talked about what it means to empty yourself that morning, to be humble. The boys tried to answer when I asked what they thought it meant. Jensen yelled out a series of likely answers to a question about Jesus. "Repentance? Forgiveness? Grace?" he tried in succession.

"Can I blow out the candles?" Alex asked.

And so we could just move on, I just said simply, "It's like wanting to open your Christmas presents so badly, but you go ahead and wait, because that's what Mommy asked you to do. It's giving up your way, and doing it God's way."

That's really what this emptying is about. It's not about the stuff or the busyness. It's about saying "no" to more and more of my way. It's about no longer trying to make my life fulfilling with lots and lots.

And it's about coming empty-handed to Jesus so He can fill me up.

Today, I am writing in community with Ann Voskamp and friends, sharing our name for the New Year. In case it wasn't clear in the post above, my word for 2011 is "empty." To read Ann's thoughtful post or to see what others have written, click on the button above.

A Dog of A Different Color

 

For the past few days, a lively, four-year-old chocolate Labrador Retriever named Lola has been staying at my house while her owner is out of town. We've been wrestling and racing; she licks me a lot, and I scratch her ears. Even now, she's nudging me with her toy, trying to get me to play tug of war. 

And if you promise not to tell her owner, I'll let you in on a little secret. I even let her sleep with me.

I have been around lots of dogs over the past two months since Precious died. In fact, I've even gone over to a friends' house JUST to play with their Golder Retriever, Brewster, as part of my grieving process. There's something about a dog running circles around my feet that warms my heart. But I wasn't sure how I'd do having another dog in my house, especially a dog who looks so similar to my old girl.

But in fact, the past several days have been wonderful. Lola shares many of Precious' best qualities, and though I wish more than anything I could just have Precious back, I am overjoyed to know that there are other really great dogs out there. Maybe even one dog who could help fill the hole Precious left when she died.

I don't think I'm ready to take the plunge quite yet, but maybe someday soon. And I might even get another Labrador Retriever. Maybe.

We all feel it, don't we?

I came home Sunday evening to a cold, dark house and quickly carried in the weekend's plunder of frames and slippers and bags of chocolate. Within hours, I would be back at work and life would carry on and Christmas 2010 would be a memory. And though part of me longed to have just one more day of this blessed season, I knew I had to let it go.

The story doesn't end with Christmas.

The Babe in the manger, the shepherds watching, the angels singing, the mother treasuring: they lead somewhere. And it's not the North Pole.

As I began unpacking last night, dumping laundry into the hamper, finding a place for what is new, I also went about warming and lighting the house: first, turning up the furnace, then, plugging in the Christmas tree, finally, lighting candles.

I lit the candles in the jars, the ones that would make my house smell like cinnamon, and I lit the candle on the dining room table, the one that casts dancing shadows all around. But when I stopped at the Advent wreath, I couldn't do it. I couldn't light those candles of waiting one more time.

Instead, I lit only the Christ candle, because though I know the waiting isn't finished, last night I just needed to be reminded that he has already come. And that He is with me even now.

We all feel it, don't we? The tug of the holidays, that tension between what is and what's yet to come, the reminder of the reality we tried to suspend during the holy, twinkling days of Christmas.

So, we keep moving forward, keep playing out the seasons, keep remembering and anticipating Jesus.

And we keep doing it together.

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I found myself stumbling over these same bitter sweet thoughts all over the blogosphere today. We all feel it, don't we?

Jennifer Lee's What It Means to Wear the Cross

Laura Boggess's Snow Cousin

Ann Voskamp's The Celebration Doesn't {Have to} End

A Simple Country Girl's Star Bright?

Billy Coffey's Hearing the Bell

Week 4, Day 6: Christmas Eve

We have arrived.

We are settled on the precipice of our goal. Tonight the anticipation ends after the long season of Advent.

Merry Christmas!

But in the morning, the anticipation begins anew as Advent continues.

Wait well, my friends, wait well.

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Today's Bible Reading

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A Prayer for The Nativity of our Lord from The Book of Common Prayer

O God, you have caused this holy night to shine with the brightness of the true Light: Grant that we, who have known the mystery of that Light on earth, may also enjoy him perfectly in heaven; where with you and the Holy Spirit he lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

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The Last of the Advent Links . . .

A last-minute recipe for your Christmas Eve party from Ann Kroeker

Ted Gossard's God Becoming One with Us

And, a gift from Ann Voskamp

Week 4, Day 5: Need

What's done is done.

I probably left someone off the Christmas card list; the shirt I bought for my nephew will probably not fit. Chances are I didn't make enough cookies for the weekend, and I certainly could have bought another gift for my mom. I scratched off the list completely my plan to make homemade caramel corn.

At some point, we just have to stop. We have to accept our limits.

Earlier in the week I wrote about my desire to be better, to expand the Advent longing for Jesus to include my desire to be whole when He comes. Today, however, I am meditating on the fact that I am not better, I can't do everything, and if it weren't for Jesus, my life would have no hope.

Advent doesn't make sense for perfect people with perfect lives. If I had everything I wanted and my life always went as I planned, there would be nothing to long for, no one to expect. But to a woman like me, a human one, full of limits and sin, Advent is all about looking to Jesus, the one who knows my weaknesses and still came to die for me.

I need Jesus. And there's no better time of the year to be reminded of that.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Jennifer Lee's Season of Good Intentions @ thehighcalling.org

Ann Kroeker's Intertwining Lives

Dan King's What Festivus Should Teach Us About Christmas

David Rupert's You Take the Trip, I'll Light the Sky

Glynn Young's Witness: Young Couple

I'm also joining Bonnie Gray's Faith Barista Jam: Unwrapping Jesus. For more posts, please click on the button below.

Week 4, Day 4: Easy

A day off work, a few hours in the kitchen for gift cooking, dinner with family, taking in the lights downtown, hot chocolate with the works at South Bend Chocolate Company, a piano concert of Schumann and Chopin at the Indianapolis Historical Society, a few minutes in the recliner tonight . . .

Sometimes waiting is hard.

But sometimes waiting is easy.

As Christmas fast approaches, today was easy.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Aimee's When Advent Turns Messy

Jennifer's Crown on BibleDude.net's community blogging project

Week 4, Day 3: Long Waiting

I sometimes say I've been waiting my whole my life. But the truth is, I've probably only been waiting about 19 years. Still, 19 years of waiting to get married is a long time.

I didn't even want to get married right out of high school. I was headed to college and wanted a career. But somewhere about my Junior year, I had seen enough "ring downs" - the Taylor University tradition when a girl announces her engagement to the entire dorm -- that I was ready for my chance.

But I didn't meet my husband in college.

As I started my career as a journalist, I thought marriage could wait a few years. Not that there were any offers. But I was content being single, and even as I moved around and met a lot of single men - some I was even interested in - I felt like the world was a big pond and there were a lot of fish. Probably one for me, in time.

But I didn't meet my husband in those early career days.

When I came to Indianapolis and found a wonderful church, and then when I moved to Northwest Indiana and worked at a wonderful church, and even when I was in Chicago, and again found myself at a church I loved, I just knew it. I knew my husband was sitting among the pews in one of those places.

But I didn't meet my husband in church.

Years of illness that caused me to finally settle down meant an even deeper longing to find someone to share my life with. For some of those years, I gave up the hope of ever getting married. But when my life seemed to be restored to me after two and a half years of being cancer free, I felt the dream flicker again. Could it be possible that I still might marry someday?

It's been a long waiting, this waiting to get married. It has been easy, and it has been hard. The longer I wait doesn't make it easier or harder. It just makes it longer.

But I am still waiting.

Long waiting isn't like waiting at workday to come to an end, or waiting to eat until supper. Long waiting is not something you can muster strength for because you know it's temporary. Long waiting means digging in, not knowing when the end will come.

In that way, Advent waiting is long waiting. Oh sure, Christmas is just around the corner, and we will rejoice at the birth of Christ We'll sing the songs of angels, and we'll remember the fear of the shepherds. But likely, after the gifts are opened and ham is put away in the fridge, we'll still be waiting for Jesus.

We will still be waiting.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

LL's Adventing, Still

Lyla's It Had to Be Hunger

Christmas Change blog

Week 4, Day 2: Great Expectations

On Saturday, I had a to-do list a mile long. I was going to finish the wrapping, finally get those Christmas cards in the mail, shop for some groceries, bake some gifts, write my daily Advent post, pay the bills, run errands, and spend the evening with a friend looking at Christmas lights.

All on Saturday.

I know, right? I would have had to have been Wonder Woman with her invisible jet AND Martha Stewart with her invisible finesse to get it all done. But still, I was disappointed with myself again and again throughout the day as I realized I would only accomplish a fraction of what I set out to do.

I want to be better than I am.

And it's not just about what I can accomplish. I want to be a better person, someone who cares more about others, who takes criticism well, who doesn't say mean-spirited things. When people meet me, I want them to see Jesus in me. Really.

Maybe it's because of the holiday season, when I want everything to be perfect, that I realize how far I am from perfect. But during this season of Advent, when we are longing for everything to be set right when Jesus comes, perhaps it's not too far off the mark to anticipate the day when I'll be set right, too.

When Jesus comes, there will be no more stress and strain, no more tears (noun) or tears (verb), no more wishing and not having, no more falling short.

Advent is not about me. But oh, how I look forward to Jesus' return when I will be free from the me that wishes it were.

For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6

Photo by me . . . an accidental self-portrait. That's my reflection in the ball.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Jennifer's What Is It About Christmas in Iowa?

Glynn's Witness: The Shepherd

Lisa-Jo's part 4 of Pregnant with Christmas series: The Choosing

Deidra's Unto Us

Week 4, Day 1: A Meal to Eat Together

 

Today, I did something that Jesus can't do.

I took communion.

Maybe "can't" is the wrong word. Saying Jesus "can't" do something is like the trick philosophical question people often ask: "If God can do anything, can he make a rock big enough that he can't lift?" It begs the question.

But as I held the tiny cracker in my left hand and bumped it against the tiny cup in my right hand, I remembered what Jesus said that night that he ate with his disciples for the last time.

He had just been betrayed, and he knew what was coming. He knew He would die and rise again and return to heaven. Already he was imagining his disciples looking for him, waiting for him. Already he thought of us, day after day, year after year, anticipating his return.

And so He took the bread and he took the cup, and He blessed it and ate and drank that redemption meal for the last time.

Until he eats and drinks with us, that is.

While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, "Take, eat; this is My body." And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, "Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father's kingdom. Matthew 26:26-29

We eat to remind ourselves that Jesus is coming again.

He doesn't eat as he waits with us for the day when we will all eat together.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Maranatha!

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A Prayer for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, from the Book of Common Prayer

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.

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Today's Bible Reading

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Another Advent Link . . .

Mark Roberts' Where Is God's Unfailing Love?

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My apologies for those who stopped by the past two days to find the darkness and quietness in this space. It happens about this time every year. My good intentions and unrealistic expectations meet up with the hectic pace of the season, and I find myself too tired even to sit here at this keyboard. Hopefully, I have things in order sufficiently to meet you here daily through Christmas Eve.

We all need a break from the computer on Christmas Day.

Blessings!

Week 3, Day 5: Amnesia

Tonight, I'm suffering from a bit of amnesia.

Between 11 a.m. and noon today I had a medical procedure that did not require full anesthesia, but would have been uncomfortable to endure awake. So I underwent what is commonly known as "conscious sedation."

For a good 30 minutes of that time, I was actually asleep. I didn't hear the doctors discussing tools and techniques. I didn't see the bright lights overhead. I didn't feel the cold air touch my skin beneath the paper thin medical gown.

For another 30 minutes of that time, however, I was awake but can't remember. I apparently made a devil's deal with my anesthesiologist in which I divulged my mothers's maiden name. I awoke in the recovery room sipping a near empty cup of Sprite, asking, "Did I drink this?" And my first words to my mom when she saw me after the procedure were not, "How did it go?" or "Did you have to wait long?" Instead, I said to her very determinedly, "Remember the color purple in case I forget."

Fortunately, I was never asked to recall such information.

The beauty of having such a procedure at the surgery center where I was seen, however, is that this was not their first rodeo. They know patients will say and do all kinds of things they won't remember and may regret. So they have a hard and fast rule for people like me who come there: you cannot leave alone. Someone else must sign for you, drive for you, and make decisions for you.

Until the effects of the drugs wore off, I couldn't be trusted alone.

I have felt a similar dependence this Advent season.

Often, I am alone with my thoughts and my spirituality, and if I happen to receive an extra large dose of worldliness or sin, I often say and do things I won't remember later or will at least regret.

That's why Jesus doesn't want us awaiting His return by ourselves. Until the effects of this world wear off, we can't be trusted alone. So He left us His Spirit. But he also left us each other. When we are especially vulnerable, he calls on us to sign for each other.

This Advent season has afforded me an especialy strong sense of community and reliance on others. From the first Sunday when I kicked off my church's Advent observance with a reading and then lit candles and ate soup with friends that night, to the daily connecting with others in the blogosphere over their Advent thoughts: I have not felt alone. And I hope you haven't either.

When Jesus does come again, may he find us waiting. Together.

And in case I forget, remember the color purple.

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By the way, many of you know that I am a cancer survivor, and vague references to "medical procedures" may cause you to worry. No need, my friend. Today's medical procedure was a rather awkward and embarrassing-to-mention colonoscopy that was merely precautionary. The results were completely normal. Though I believe the entire medical community is still reticent to use the world "normal" when describing me. Thanks for your concern!

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Jennifer Lee's It's Not Too Late to Start Advent

More of LL's Twelve Poems of Christmas. This one? It's a Pronoun Christmas

Ted Gossard's When the Time Had Come

Ann Voskamp's How to Wait for Christmas

I am also writing today in community with Bonnie Gray for her Thursday Faith Barista Jam. Follow the button below to see what others are writing about "Unwrapping Jesus."

Week 3, Day 4: Ember Days

These are the Ember Days of winter, the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday following the December 13, the feast of St Lucy.

In the traditional church calendar, the Ember Days come four times a year, one in each season - both climactic and ecumenical. The Ember Days help us march from winter to spring to summer to fall. They also help us complete the redemptive circle from Advent to Lent, from Lent to Pentecost, from Pentecost to Holy Cross, from Holy Cross to Advent.

Or, as one rather cheeky Episcopalian Priest describes it on his blog, "Lenty, Penty, Crucy, Lucy."

These sacred days were an early church adaptation of seasonal pagan rites, sanctified through the practices of fasting, abstinence, and prayer.

I've never observed the Ember Days before; this year, I am fasting by necessity because of a medical procedure I will have tomorrow. My own adaptation of a pagan rite. Friday and Saturday, I'm not sure.

I can see the needfulness of the Ember Days, though -- regular commitments to fasting and prayer as we move throughout the year. These days becoming a cyclical reminder of the living and dying we do from one season to the next.

And though the word "Ember" has Latin or possibly Anglo-Saxon origins, that have nothing to do with the American English definition, these days so aptly named conjure the dying coals of a fire, the last burning embers of one season awaiting the next.

Happy Ember Days!

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Today's Bible Reading

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Another Advent link . . .

Ann's follow up to yesterday's candle chase: Wherein Ann Discovers an Easy Advent Solution

Photo by Insane Photoholic. Used with permission under the Creative Common License.

Week 3, Day 3: Telling It Like It Is

I was at the CVS pharmacy just to pick up a couple of items for a friend.

After a long day of work and then helping her move, I just wanted to run in, get the items, and leave. I was relieved when I quickly found everything she needed; a couple of the items were even on sale.

I wheeled the cart to the check out area, and though it seemed rather crowded, I was next in line at the register I selected. The guy in front of me was already paying. The errand would be as quick as I had hoped, I thought to myself.

But then something happened. The man still had his wallet open and was apologizing.

"Oh, sorry about that. I need a pack of cigarettes, too," he said to the clerk. "A pack of soft, red Marlboros."

"The red box?" she asked, confused.

"No, just a pack in the soft cover, not the box," he told her.

After a couple of minutes, the cigarettes were on the counter, he laid down more cash, and I was sure it was finally my turn to check out.

But he just stood there talking. He told the clerk a story about his wife. He reached and reached to put his wallet in his pocket, but couldn't find it because he was distracted with another story about a previous shopping trip. Finally, he turned away from the clerk to find his pocket and stole a glimpse at me.

"Oh," he said, apparently just realizing I was back there. "I better move out of the way or this lady is going to run her cart into me."

"No, I would never do that," I insisted, even though the thought had crossed my mind somewhere about the time he was describing the Marlboro packaging in detail.

"She looks mean," he teased, to the clerk. "She's mad."

"No, I'm not," I said.

"Oh, I guess you're nicer than you look," he told me as he started to walk away. He was chuckling.

"Thanks a LOT," I said, trying not to be irritated.

"Just having fun," he said. "Merry Christmas to you."

"Merry Christmas to you, too," I said, not meaning it.

I wanted to be mad about the stranger who told it like it is. But the strange thing was, he saw me unfiltered, when my face was telling it like is. I wasn't being patient or loving. I wasn't wishing him peace and goodwill. And he knew it.

I was in a hurry. I had had a long day. And I wanted to shove his Marlboros in the trash and tell him that smoking was dumb. No amount of denying it could convince the man otherwise.

Sometimes, I feel that way about waiting on Jesus, too. I'm tired and impatient, and it feels like He's taking too long. I come to him unfiltered, when my prayers consist mostly of whining.

But He sees me, sees me before I can act the part or mimic the right words to say. And he reminds me-- sometimes with a man buying Marlboros, sometimes with a bad diagnosis, sometimes just straight from His word -- "You need to persevere so that when you have done the will of God, you will receive what he has promised" (Hebrews 10:36).

And I can't be mad about that.

So tonight, my friends, I want to tell it like it is, for real this time. Perhaps this is God's word to YOU: "We do not belong to those who shrink back and are destroyed, but to those who have faith and are saved" (Hebrews 10:39).

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent links . . .

Ann's funny and thoughtful Three Purples and a Pink

LL's achingly beautiful Walk in December

Billy Coffey's poignant Jangle, Jangle

Lisa-Jo's touching Pregnant with Christmas, Part 3

Week 3, Day 2: A Home Prepared for Us

Tonight, I helped my friend Kelly move into her new house.

The movers actually carried in the boxes and furniture. I helped with the unpacking.

Her two young sons were with a family friend for the evening during the height of the moving chaos. As a special homecoming for them, we worked really hard to get their room unpacked and ready. 

In three hours, we set up their castle play house, put the books on the shelves, and arranged their toys carefully in the closet. Just about 15 minutes before they arrived, the bunk beds were finally assembled, so I quickly tucked and smoothed the sheets and blankets and fluffed the pillows.

They arrived to an array of boxes in the family room, but they quickly shod shoes and coats and ran up the stairs to their bedroom.

Gleeful screams and squeals were followed quickly by "Oh-my-gosh-es" and "This-is-the-best-house-ever-s." Jensen grabbed his LeapPad game he hadn't seen since May. Alex grabbed the Legos. They climbed up and down the bunk beds. The hopped and ran around in circles when they opened the closet full of toys.

Their elation was heightened by the fact that they waited nearly eight months to move in. Their old house went on the market and sold before Kelly was able to find a new one. Once she bought the new house, there were several repairs and improvements to make. For the past several weeks, the boys have been hanging out at the house on the weekends while their house was refloored and painted and landscaped.

But tonight, they are home.

The sorrow of leaving their old house, the discomfort of being away from their stuff, the long days of waiting for their new house to be done were all overshadowed by the joy of coming to a new home prepared especially for them.

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Today's Bible Reading

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Another Advent link . . .

explorefaith.org's Advent Resources

Week 3, Day 1: Holding our Breath

We, the people of God, have taken a deep breath, collectively.

We hold it fast, our lungs beginning to burn.

We are expectant. We won't let it go, this breath we hold. We won't let it go until He comes.

We know He came; we know He will come again. But today, He comes?

We can't hold it any long. We exhale, breathless.

Yes, He is here. Here among us.

We don't wait in vain.

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A prayer for the third Sunday of Advent from The Book of Common Prayer. 

Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent links . . .

Laura's beautiful Gaudete! (Rejoice!)

Deidra's elegantly simple Sunday

Week 2, Day 7: Resting

Tonight, there are packages to wrap, cards to address, candy to make.

And tonight, friends are in pain, children are hungry, families are grieving.

But in this moment, as I wait, I also rest. Jesus is coming again. All is well.

So, tonight for me, it's a warm bowl of homemade soup and a fresh-baked pumpkin muffin, followed by hours and hours curled up in a blanket, watching movies, reading books.

Praying you are warm, safe, and well-fed tonight.

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Today's Bible Reading

Week 2, Day 6: Bread

I've been thinking about food a lot these past couple of days. Possibly because my life has slowed down enough to cook again. But maybe because with the holidays comes all kinds of special food.

Over the weekend, my mom and my niece and nephew made peanut butter cookies with chocolates kisses. For the past couple of days, I've been snacking on peanut brittle from Trader Joe's. And at work this week, we had special breakfast food brought in, not just once, but twice. Food is everywhere.

It's also Friday, which means I could write about food AND join Ann for her Food on Fridays. So, today, a double treat. First, an Advent post from the archives all about food. Then, my favorite recipe for homemade wheat bread. Enjoy!

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As someone who loves to cook, and loves to eat, food always plays a big role in my celebrations of any kind, especially holidays.

It's not necessarily the same foods each year, though I do look forward to Jim's pancakes at our annual Sunday School class Christmas brunch. And the holidays just wouldn't be the same without some of my mom's homemade peanut butter balls or some of Renae's sausage biscuit bites at her annual Christmas open house.

But it's thinking about, preparing and shopping for, and then cooking and serving and eating food that's especially significant to me. Holiday food takes into consideration more than just sustenance. It's an opportunity to consider others' tastes and to share; it's an opportunity to be a little extravagant and to give thanks; and it's a way to bring in all of our senses - hearing, seeing, smelling, touching, tasting - as we experience the joy of celebrating.

Jesus also used food as a way of celebrating, but also remembering and looking ahead, when he broke bread and drank from a cup. He took ordinary food, food the disciples would serve to each other again and again, and he made it holy by connecting it to himself. This wasn't so that the disciples would eat bread and drink wine only in church. But so that each time they ate bread and drank wine, wherever they were, they would remember Jesus, both his sacrifice and promise to return.

That's what I want my holiday food to be like this Advent: not something I eat only on a special day or two. But food I eat all year that reminds me there's something more than eating and drinking. So that even while I am eating bread, I might remember that man does not live by bread alone.

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Whole Wheat Bread

This recipe is for a bread maker. I let the bread maker mix, knead, and rise, then I pull the dough out, put it in a greased pan to rise for 30 minutes in a warm place, and then I bake it in a 350 degree oven for 45 minutes.

For a 1 1/2 pound bread maker

1 cup milk

3 tablespoons water

4 teaspoons honey or sugar (I use honey)

1 tablespoon margarine or butter (I use butter)

1 1/2 cups whole wheat flour

1 1/2 cups bread flour (if you use all purpose flour, add 4 tsps vital wheat gluten)

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon active dry yeast

Add the ingredients to the bread machine according to manufacturer's directions. Select the dough setting. When complete, see directions above for baking.

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Ted Gossard's The Humanity of Christmas

David Rupert's Advent for Aliens

Joel's Receive

Photo by Chiot's Run. Used with permission under the Creative Common's License.

Week 2, Day 5: A Ho, Ho, Hoax

SPOILER ALERT: If you or anyone reading this post with you believes in Santa, you might want to come back tomorrow. :)

On Saturday, while I was in Wisconsin visiting my brother and his family, we decided to take my three-year-old nephew, Kole, to have his pictures taken with Santa.

Of course, we didn't tell him why we just happened to be stopping at Wal-Greens that morning until we knew for sure how long the line was going to be. To our surprise, there was not a line, owing partly to the fact, I'm sure, that a major snow had fallen the night before. It might also have had something to do with the Santa.

Bless his heart, the Santa was really trying. He was wrapped up tight in his stuffed red suit, and "his" snowy white beard was combed neatly. He was patient and polite with the children and the adults. But the man underneath the hat looked to be about 27, not some jolly old elf, and his boots were more like felt galoshes than sleigh-worthy footwear.

So when we suddenly announced to Kole that we were not at Walgreens to buy milk but rather to see Santa, he was a little suspicious. Until my brother actually picked him up and sat him right there on Santa's lap, Kole wanted nothing to do with the whole thing. But once he was up there and didn't have to look at the Gen-Xer with the fake beard, Kole just went with it. He even flashed one of his new squinty, toothy smiles for the camera.

By the time the young man handed him a candy cane, Kole was convinced it was Santa himself. Later, when he was recounting to his mommy who he saw that morning, he said, "It was the 'Ho, ho, ho' one!"

For three-year-olds, even cheesy imitations offer the magic and mystery of Christmas. We adults, the mature, sophisticated ones, aren't so easily deceived.

Or are we?

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent links . . .

Aimee's December Daily Quietness

Ann's Why a True Christmas Might Be Painful at {in}courage

Lisa-Jo's second post in her series Pregnant with Christmas

Glynn's Nostalgic for that Aluminum Tree

I'm also joining Bonnie Gray's "Unwrapping Jesus" community writing project today . . . visit her site for more on "unwrapping Jesus" discoveries.

Week 2, Day 4: Baby, It's Dark Outside

It's dark outside.

Of course, by now, at 8 p.m., it's been dark for a couple of hours. These days, these late fall days of diminishing sunlight, we have to finish up our work and come in to the warmth and light of the house by 5:30 p.m. By the shortest day of the year, in just two weeks, it will be dark by 5, or 4:30 even, if it's cloudy.

I don't do well in the dark.

For one thing, I was afraid of the dark until I was 11 or 12. We lived in a house that was built into the side of a hill, so there were no windows in my room. It was pitch black even during the day, so at night, my parents left the hall light on for me.

But even now, the dark does something terrifying to me. All of my worst traits seem exaggerated in the dark: I am lazier, I worry more, I grow irrational and fearful. When it's dark, I forget what my goals are, dreams become just something to do when I sleep.

Jesus knows we struggle with darkness. He knows that when the world is dark, all kinds of evil will prevail. That's why He brought light into the world. That's why He shines his light on us, exposing the evil, the worst parts of us, and cleansing them with burning, shining light. That's why he tells us to set our lights on a hill and let them shine, rather than hide them under a basket.

It's a dark time, these late fall and early winter days that lead us through Advent to Christmas. But in the darkness, light shines more brightly. The dancing flicker of the Advent candles and the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree shine more brightly when the sun sets and house grows dark. But also the hope we bring when we share gifts with the poor and the joy we bring when we spend time with the elderly during this season also shine more brightly in the darkness that encompasses so many people around us.

The people walking in darkness

have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of deep darkness

a light has dawned.

Isaiah 9:2

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

LL's Christmas in Verse at Seedlings in Stone

Ann's Quiet Advent at A Holy Experience

Jennifer's What to Expect When You are Expecting at Getting Down with Jesus

Michelle's A Different Advent at Graceful

Week 2, Day 3: Incentive Bonus

Today at work, I found out that I qualified for an incentive bonus during the past year. My paycheck tomorrow will be $305.51 bigger as a result.

The incentive bonus program was announced last January when we found out our company was issuing a salary freeze because of broader economic concerns. The owners decided to be conservative to preserve the integrity of the company. But if the risk paid off and there were profits at the end of the year, they agreed to share them with the employees.

If we earned it.

So all year, we have been incentivized to arrive to work on time, to keep our unplanned absences to a minimum, to offer money-saving ideas to our supervisors, to print on both sides of the paper. Keeping costs low would mean more bonus money at the end of the year.

For many employees at my company, the effort paid off.

In this season of Advent, when we are focused on the comings of Jesus, sometimes, it helps to remember the incentive Jesus offered. Just before his death, burial, and resurrection, Jesus told his disciples that he would be leaving them, that they would be expected to wait around until his return.

But he also told them that it would be worth it.

Unlike my employer's incentive, Jesus wasn't concerned that his disciples would earn their way to eternal life. He knew the cost, and he was willing to pay it. He did require their faithfulness, though. And he knew even in that they would need some incentive.

Do not let your hearts be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. In My Father's house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also. And you know the way where I am going. - John 14:1-4

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Today's Bible Reading

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More Advent Links . . .

Pageantry from Jennwith2Ns

Ted's Waiting for God's Salvation