Celtic Advent: slipping into the season

Celtic Advent begins on the evening of November 15.  Like Lent, it 40 days.  Like Lent, it is a time of waiting. Like Lent, it is a time of preparing for a great change.

In my church, Advent is four weeks and is the color blue.  Sacre bleu, the sacred blue of Mary as she grows and prepares.  Don't tell them that. Some will love it and some will not.  Ahh family.

This year has been a year of upheaval, waiting, worrying, resting, hoping, despairing.

Covid-19 has hit near me, but not that close.  It is getting closer. I know we won't be untouched.  I don't live in fear. I live in caution and respect, as I do with the ocean or the mountains.  Or God.

The election has given me a result that I like and I know the struggle to reclaim the nation has just begun.  It's not just the anger on both sides. It's the weeding of the Dandelions who have become entangled in our national identity since the beginning.  The question of who are "the people" and who government will serve.  What is economic justice? What is environmental justice? What is racial justice? What is justice for people of all genders and sexual preferences? Again, "Who are the People?" "Who is my neighbor?"

My health is not super. I think I'm sicker than I feel or seem, and now I'm beginning to feel a little sicker. I would like to walk off my pain and exhaustion. I'd like to just eat well and do yoga and dance to fun music and feel better.  And maybe I will, after a small and exciting operation that is not the panacea I want but much better than not doing anything.

And here I am, taking my journey through Advent.  Bitching like I did in my first trimesters of my pregnancies. 

Step one: reopen Canva. Make pretty pictures.  Create things.

Step two: reopen this blog, which is old and comfortable and not terribly fancy.

Step three: Read Christ Walk: a 40 day spiritual fitness program by Anna Fitch Courie. I'm using a few Celtic Advent books for Devotionals.  Celtic Advent by David Cole. Prepare the Way: Celtic Prayers for the Season of Light, by Ray Simpson. Thin Places Everywhere by Bruce Epperly. Living into God's Dream: Dismantling Racism in America by Catherine Meeks.  The journey is inside and out.

Step four: walk as far as I can.  Which may be to the end of our urban driveway and may be around the block. It may end up being a mile at the Congaree National Monument (the swamp) with a camp chair so I can rest.  

I am embarrassed to admit how low I am right now. My mother did not believe in God or sin, but there was definitely wrongness in illness or weakness.  That is a long story that includes a lot of women in my family and their views of their places in the world.  Maybe I'll spend some time there in addition to the places where she built a better world for all of us.

As Lao Tzu said, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.  And Rumi said, as you start to walk on the way, the way appears. 

Here we go.