GIFTS! (and poetry)

Dear ones,

‘Tis two weeks ‘til Christmas!!! I am savoring every moment of this northern holiday experience. This past weekend, we got to watch White Christmas while it was actually snowing. What’s more, we were eating homemade tomato soup and Swedish bread, followed up by eggnog cake (be on the watch for that recipe in the near future!). It. Was. Amazing.

In the spirit of sharing all this wintry love, here are some views from our walk yesterday:

There. Mayhap I just made your shopping infinitesimally easier. You’re welcome.

Think I’m done? Not even close, my friend. I want to share with you one more gift – or, actually, two.

We are now in the second week of Advent. Advent is just as significant for the Christmas celebration as Lent is for Easter. Both are meant to be seasons of reflection, repentance, and preparation – a “quieting” of one’s soul, making room for the wild joy of the Day itself when it comes. It’s hard, because this is a busy time of year, and most of the holiday is not designed to foster quiet and reflection. But, my good friend Henri Nouwen (see my first-ever post for more of his wisdom) says that it is possible to be quiet on the inside while leading a very noisy and active life on the outside. The reverse is also true; one can be quiet externally, but raging in turmoil internally.

Advent is an ideal time to reconcile the two.

I have found in recent years that practicing Advent makes my Christmas jollification mean more; after a season of silence and contemplation, I am better able to hear and participate as creation “repeats the sounding Joy”. The Joy itself is deeper, and settles more deeply into my being – maybe only a fraction of a centimeter every year, true, but that is quite all right with me. I’m in this for the long haul, and I look forward to a lifetime – and beyond – of ever-deepening Joy.

One of the ways I “practice” Advent is by writing poetry.

This year, Advent has folded in so seamlessly with our move north that the timing feels – nay, it must be – intentional. Hence, the poetry so far this season is not only Advent poetry, but reflections on this new adventure as we lean into it.

Here be the first two weeks, as my last gift for you. (For today, that is.)

First Sunday of Advent; or, First Morning in New England

To come through dizzy days of headlong haste –
Seeking for the new, uncertain Where –
To come, at last, and find it not a waste
Flinging selves to hurtle through the air

To wake and find in hopeful morning light –
While Where is softly settling into Here –
To wake, and find our grief covered in white
While falling water sings away our fear

Second Sunday of Advent; or, First Saturday Morning in New England

Sit – and let the falling water sing
Behold the river opened on the height
Sit – and know there’s nothing you can bring
To make this cozy fireside more bright

Sit – and let me teach you to believe
You need not fear the Now, nor any Then
Sit – for, while you’re learning to receive
Love is being born in you again

Happy Advent, friends. May your days be merry and bright – and deeply, roomily, restoratively quiet.

P.S. If you enjoyed the Gatekeeper trilogy and feel like giving generously in return, why not write a review? Reviews are unspeakably important for new writers like me. You can write a review for the first, second, or third book – or, if you’re really feeling that spirit of generosity flowing through you like spiked eggnog, leave one for ALL THREE! 

My warm and heartfelt gratitude is yours. 🙂