Saturday, December 8, 2018

Horses as Alert & Woke Channels of God's Grace: AdventWord Day 7


Horses are among the most attentive and alert of God’s creatures. As I have learned from my spouse’s work as an equine therapist, these large animals are hyper vigilant and able to pick up on tensions and fears, conflicts and apprehensions, even the kindness and goodness of their surroundings. It is said that horses can sense the human heartbeat four feet away. 
Yes, horses are woke, which makes them excellent partners in the art of human healing and therapy. In being so alert, although large and initially intimidating, horses become avenues of genuine compassion and companions in transformation. We have much to learn from these wondrous creatures. If our alertness can mirror at least a fraction of their attentiveness to others and the spaces around us, we just may be become similar channels of love and grace able to ease a wounded world.

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Friday, December 7, 2018

Sprout Again: AdventWord Reflection Day 6


once again 
will sprout
though the ground
now cold
a thaw will come
what is dry
will give way
to growth
what is not
will become
brand new
still we wait
for the ground
until it springs

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Thursday, December 6, 2018

When We Struggle to Be Light: AdventWord Day 5


The inevitable happens every year, you pull out strings of lights and bulbs are burned out that threaten the entire strand. You then are posed with two options: search for the dud and replace with a spare #light or toss them and cut your $3 loss. However, if you went all in last Christmas and bought the continuous LEDs, it is ok if one bulb does not shine. The rest of the lights continue to carry the current and illuminate the night, with the burned out bulb still a part of the strand.

If we are honest, this time of year we may not always feel so illuminated. We may dare challenge the lyrics of the sacred carol and scream, all is not calm; all is not bright! And we would be right to do so. We must make space for this Advent confession of despair and distress, when we struggle to be a light or hold on hope or trust in the promise that God is with us and for us. We may then find comfort in the truth that when we are not able to shine bright, the current of God’s love and grace continues to move through the work of others on the strand. May we cling to their light when ours is faint at best. Assured the day will come when we may be able to burn bright again.

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Wednesday, December 5, 2018

Wounded Light throughout the Night: #AdventWord Day 4


The thing about light is that it is somewhat dependent upon the night; the fullness of the glow is most evident in darkness. Yet each night I unplug the lights before headed for bed. For those who pass by our home in the late night and earliest of morning hours, our house is dark. The same is true for the whole neighborhood. We cut short the potential to experience brightness and share the light for any midnight traveler. 
I wonder, where is our light when the world is darkest? Do we see these as moments to shine bright or do we withdraw in our own fear or angst or insecurity about our ability to make any difference at all? Do we only light up in the safety of the day, when all is well and light is already in abundance and it risks us nothing? Are we unplugged in the depths of the night? 
This year I found a stray mini-tree light we bought years ago. It was missing a pole and no longer stands upright on its own. So I got myself some duct tape, rigged up a makeshift post, and stuck it in the corner of our front porch. This tree may be my new favorite of all our lights. While it is fragile and frail and imperfect and wounded and taped, it still shines in the night and reminds me of what it means to be human, to be Christian, to be bearers of the Light of the World in the darkest of nights.
So I am going to leave the little tree turned on a bit longer tonight. Maybe I will wait to unplug it in the morning.

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