faith fridays: snow angels

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gusilu/3217745328/sizes/m/in/photostream/

 

“The invisible becomes visible through the physical.” -- Unknown

Remember snow angels? Lying on the ground in wintertime, brushing arms up and down for the wings, legs out and in for the cloak. You were one with the earth and winter, and by your movement you created something beautiful, heavenly. When done flapping, you may have risen, brushed yourself off, and possibly, realizing you were now covered entirely in cold snow, headed inside for a warm cup of hot chocolate.

I love my memories of creating such a body print in the snow and I love the photo I found online depicting this moment in time. But what I really want to do is share a story of a real-life snow angel who visited me a couple weeks back.

It was my weekly night away from home to work on my writing projects, and I was determined to keep to the schedule, especially knowing school would be letting out the next day and my freedom to meet deadlines would be impeded.  "You're going to get stuck out there," my husband warned. But I knew my path would be on plowed streets, and likely not far enough from home to pose too great a risk. My determination to get my work accomplished was greater than my worry of winter driving within city limits.

The misstep happened several hours later while on the way home. Thirsty, I decided to take a different route to buy something refreshing at a gas station nearby. Time spent inside, warm and safe, had helped me forget the realities I was facing. Off the beaten, plowed path, I soon made manifest my husband's predictions, and was surrounded by snow in every direction, unable to move my van. And I knew that at that point in the night, summoning my early-to-bed husband likely would be a futile act.

"Alright God, I guess it's me and you," I whispered. "Help?" Though I tried brushing off a rising panic within me, it remained, hovering, and yet my belief that somehow I'd figure a way out of the mess felt even stronger. I paused, uttering one more small prayer, concluding this time with the words, "I trust you."

Less than a minute later, I watched an almost surreal scene as a large pickup truck about two blocks to my right came to a halt and proceeded to move in reverse, headlights brightly lit as it traveled backward down a nearby side street. Even though it would be logical to believe the driver had seen me and was going to stop and help, I didn't trust this possibility. I hadn't even seen the pickup go by, after all, so my mind automatically concluded there was must be some other reason he was driving in reverse the entirety of two blocks.

Minutes later, he'd pulled up to the back of my van and was stepping out, retrieving a large rope from the back of his pickup. He spoke very few words, just got to work connecting our vehicles in a way that would be most likely to help me out of my jam. It didn't take long -- just a few tries and one really good yank...and I was free. No more worries. I could go home and fret not a minute more about my safety and how I might get my vehicle out of a snowbank at night.

The angel was young, maybe late 20s, and didn't for one moment make me feel as if I'd inconvenienced him. "What's your name?" I asked, thanking him profusely for his good deed. And then...quickly as he'd come, he was gone.

To some this scene and the resulting action might be perceived as mere coincidence. A woman becomes stuck in the snow, a young man in a truck drives by and, seeing her predicament, decides to stop and help. All just a string of events that can be easily explained in natural terms.

For me, it was much different. So much so that I bawled all the way home; not because I'd messed up and was feeling lucky to have been rescued, though I certainly was grateful beyond words. But because I knew it was not coincidence. The timing of the rescue, it having come so immediately at the conclusion of my prayer, coupled with what I was feeling interiorly and the rapidity by which it all happened helped me to know that in that act of kindness by another human being, God was making contact with me, reminding me He was near and would not leave me feeling helpless for long. The supernatural reality of the situation felt very real, and at the same time, symbolic in a sense of what I was needing, since I was not just needing to be unstuck but some assurance of His love, though I hadn't recognized this until afterward.

God knows my every weakness, including my need to feel His presence on occasion, and He responded swiftly and directly to my call for help. Yes, I'd messed up a bit, but in this situation, He showed me His mercy, compassion and love. My tears on the way home were much more about the depth of the love I felt, my joy over having been given that gift, and my humility over having been given the eyes of faith than anything else.

God doesn't always act so promptly. Sometimes the rescue is much more delayed. Sometimes it feels as if God hasn't responded at all. But He does. He always does. It just might not be in the way we had anticipated, nor exactly the timing we would have chosen. But God will not abandon us.

Q4U: Have you ever felt rescued by an angel, helped out of a jam? When and how?

writing wednesdays: craving simplicity

If you'd be so kind, I'd love for you to dash on over to Peace Garden Writer to read my latest parenting column.  It's all about the post-Christmas blues and pondering ways to combat them.

See you there!

PGM

mama mondays: a photo and song for christmas 2010

Merry Christmas 2010 to the readers of Peace Garden Mama! Thanks so much for taking time this year to pop in every once in a while to catch a glimpse of what's been going on in our lives. Your engaging and sweet thoughts have been life-giving time and again. I do not take this wonderful exchange for granted!

We really did have a lovely, and very WHITE Christmas this year. After a small celebration here at home, we traveled to Minnesota to enjoy Christmas Eve and Day with extended family near the shores of the very frozen (and ice-house packed) Lake Minnewaska. 

On Christmas Eve, my dear mother-in-law, Bev (Mom #2), and I had the chance to sing a Christmas duet at Troy's childhood church. Our piece took place at a time in the service when most of the lights were out, and only candles illumined the room. Thanks to my 13-year-old daughter, our song was recorded (below). I hope you'll enjoy our rendition of "I Wonder As I Wander" from the evening of Dec. 24, 2010.

May all that is good and loving and hopeful about Christmas continue to live in your hearts in the weeks and months ahead!

PGM

faith fridays: las posadas

This is an especially meaningful time of year for children of the school where our three youngest attend. The school is named after the Nativity and carries out a variety of special celebrations to herald the birth of our Savior. Among them are the special Advent program I've written about recently, as well as December "birthday bundles," the collecting of birthday items -- cake mix, frosting, party favors -- to package together to be distributed to children who might not have to chance to celebrate their birthdays otherwise. This all in honor of the birth of the most amazing person in human history, Jesus Christ.

Another important December event at our school is the celebration of Las Posadas, a re-enactment of Joseph's and Mary's travels to Bethlehem to look for a place to birth their child. Each year at this time, in the days leading up to Christmas, our youngest three ask to be taken to school a little earlier than usual. This year our 10-year-old was especially adamant. "It's Las Posadas, Mom, and the fifth-graders get to lead this year." Leading Las Posadas is a special honor given to the oldest students in the school.

Each morning of Las Posadas days, the fifth-graders are released in groups of fours in intervals. The foursomes go knocking on random doors of their younger classmates. To bring authenticity to the drama, all lights in the classrooms and hallways are turned off. The fifth-grade leaders hold a candle to illuminate the path as they move through the halls and choose a door. The students inside wonder with great anticipation: Will it be our door this time?

When the knock comes, those in the hallway say loudly, "Posada! Posada!" To which the younger voices inside respond, "There's no room at the inn!" Then, those four return to their classroom, and then next group has its turn, three more rounds.

This routine continues each morning until the final day before Christmas break. After recess of that day, a pre-Christmas celebration ensues. Every grade gets a chance at breaking a pinata, each child taking a swing with a stick to try to open the pinata to release the treasures within.

Interestingly, I recently heard someone on Catholic radio explain the tradition of the pinata. He said that originally, pinatas contained seven "horns" or spikes that represented the Seven Deadly Sins. When the people with the sticks beat on the pinata they are symbolizing the beating down of sin. The candy inside, representing God's grace, is then released and enjoyed.

Right before the final Mass of the school year, the fourth-graders are first to enter the church, where they sit in waiting. The principal, carrying the cross of Jesus, travels down the hallways announcing, "Posada! Posada!" And one by one, the classes begin moving down the hall in a grand procession. When all the children reach the church doors, again, they knock and all say in unison, "Posada! Posada!" The answer inside this time? "Come in! There's room in the inn!"

All of that waiting, all of that anticipation in the dark ends with the wonderful news that there is, indeed, room for the Christ child to be born; room in a stable, or the Church of the Nativity, and at a school bearing the same name. The re-enactment of Las Posadas ends with a celebratory Mass, after which time the children are released for their Christmas break.

I love how seriously the kids perform these ceremonies, how important these traditions become to them. I love that as the children grow older, their roles become more prominent. Children thrive on tradition. They come to anticipate and enjoy what is coming, and all of these things bring more meaning to the celebrations that are so rich within our Faith.


Q4U: Christmas is drawing ever so near. How spacious is the room at the inn of your heart and soul for Love?

writing wednesdays: catnap

You snooze, you lose...sometimes. But sometimes you win.

It's a quick post today on Peace Garden Writer, but if you can muster the energy, you won't regret that chance to see what the kids and cats have been up to lately. Let's just say Kermit the Frog's loss is Skittles the Cat's gain.

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.........(or should that be brrrrrrrr?)

PGM

mama mondays: impending light

Lead kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead thou me on!
Keep thou my feet! I do not ask to see
The distant scene; one step enough for me.

-- Blessed John Henry Newman (1801-1890)

 

 

I love Newman's reflection, his simple plea that he be led, and not lead. In turn, he promises to not look too far ahead, but only at the step before him. If we could all approach life this way...

This past weekend was another filled with events bringing us one step closer to the Light of Lights.

Saturday after Mass, our parish's fifth-graders presented a dinner theater, the script of which was written by our pastor and included all three of our priests as the Magi. The play incorporated various Christmas songs  into the storyline. It included our youngest daughter as the innkeeper's wife and one of her good friends as Mary. (Isn't baby Jesus great?) The opening scene had the Wisemen trudging through the dark, singing as they wound their way through the crowd and up onto the stage. As the play went on, the stage grew lighter and lighter.

We also finally bought a tree for our home and, after letting it defrost, dragged out the decorations and began stringing lights and as many ornaments as it could hold. I enjoy all of this more now that the kids can help and take so much pleasure in seeing again all the special items that have been stored away the past year.

Finally, a daughter and I took in the final Christmas concert of the season, the eighth-annual candlelight concert put on by Shanley High School. I'm always impressed by the caliber of these high-school students, who sound more like what I remember of our college choir than that of our high-school choir.

While experiencing the latter, I once again tried to contemplate what it might be like to experience Christmas devoid of faith. I'm beginning to sound like a broken record, perhaps, but with each passing year, I feel I appreciate my faith and how I'm able to process my life through it more and more. Even when I'm having a blah day, when I hear words inspired by the faith perspective, everything changes. I love my faith! And I love how vibrant it makes life, even when darkness surrounds.

Q4U: What and/or how are you feeling as the final Advent candle is lit and Christmas draws near?

faith fridays: are you ready to die?

Last week, I was called back to my doctor's office after a test during a physical exam returned with some suspicious results. I thought I was to simply do a repeat of the initial test, but instead was led to the surgical room for a biopsy. My doctor tends to be fairly laid back and said he wasn't too worried but wanted to follow through just in case.

Of course, it's always the "just in case" that catches you. I've been called back before, so this wasn't my first cancer scare. It was my third. But the number isn't as important as my inward response and how it's changed each time.

The last call-back happened about a year ago. I'd recently lost a friend to cancer, and the thought that I might go through something similar frightened me. I could feel the panic rising up within me the closer I came to my appointment. My husband was out of town for the follow-up, so I felt even more alone in my thoughts and couldn't help but ponder how my children would do without a mother.

This time around, another friend had recently passed. But instead of allowing that to increase my panic, I had a different reaction. There were a few fleeting moments of worry, but even more pervasive was an inward calm, and I realized that if the news were bad, I would be readier to hear it now.

I'm happy to say the results were benign. For that, I rejoice! Even so, it's been interesting for me to realize that death no longer scares me like it once did. That's not to say I'm jumping at the chance to make a hasty exit from this world. No, I love my life, and I don't want my children, husband, friends and extended family to carry that burden.  But as I work to abandon my will to make way for God's in all things, I realize that the timing of my earthly cessation is not in my hands. And if my time were to come, those who love me would be okay. My role as mother, wife, daughter, sister and friend would not cease, even if it would change.

Certainly, the recent passing of my friends Ryan and Roberta have had a great deal to do with my new sense of calm. Both were incredibly faith-filled to the end, and their examples of dying inspired me greatly. So I couldn't help but think this past week, "If Roberta could do this, if Ryan could do this, so could I."

It's somewhat akin to when I was going through my first pregnancy alongside a friend who also was experiencing her first pregnancy. She delivered first, and I remember talking to her on the phone a few days later, asking, "Was it as bad as you thought it would be?" "Worse," she replied, and yet she had survived it, and she had a new, precious son at her side. Life had conquered suffering.

Death no longer feels like a far-off event. But I've also witnessed how life continues on. Recently, I attended a birthday celebration of the husband of my friend Laura, who died in 2000. Yes, there is still a bittersweetness that hangs in the air whenever her dear ones gather, but there is also a vibrant, palpable sense of LIFE. I've witnessed the carrying on of children and spouses of these dear people, and I realize death's hold, no matter how difficult, is still very fleeting.

Before I received the good news on Wednesday, I had the distinct thought that God is preparing me for something special. Over the last several years, I've received a great amount of healing. All the work that has led to the healing is beginning to manifest itself in numerous life-giving ways. So my specific thought was, "God is preparing me for something special; either to be carried out here on earth or in heaven." And I felt excited, because I knew that wherever God would bring me, it would be incredible.

I realize if ever the tests are different and my ending time does come sooner than later, I'll have a lot to process and it won't be so simple. But for now, I feel a sense of surrender I've not felt before. This latest "test" revealed some new things to me about myself and where I'm at interiorly.

I'm so happy to know that I have at least another day with you all, and am delighted to think it could be even longer than that. What a Christmas gift! But being aware of a new inward peace that had not been present  earlier, a peace I could have drawn on had the results been different, was a wondrous feeling.

Q4U: What about you? Do you feel ready to die? If not, what do you feel you need to do first?

writing wednesdays: colorful organization

Today on Peace Garden Writer, I'm talking about how I use color to keep my life on track. If you're a color geek like me, see more here:

PGM

mama mondays: the darkness of faith?

I'm afraid I've struck a negative chord with a fellow blogger. The writer of Heaving Dead Cats, an atheist blog, has taken offense to some words I shared on Friday. In them, I referenced her blog post about her decision to create a new kind of holiday celebration. Just as her response was written for her readers, my initial post was written for mine and not to incite a battle. I knew I was taking a risk in sharing some of her thoughts, assuming she might find my post through a pingback, but it wasn't meant to be a personal attack. Having found her blog by accident, and seeing the opportunity to bring forth light through an opposite point of view, it seemed a fitting way to share my thoughts on faith. Certainly, it's within her right to respond. I might have done the same if the situation had been reversed.

Nevertheless, I find her response interesting on many levels, few of which I plan to expound upon here for lack of energy and desire to go much further with this. I am and always will be intrigued by how others think and process the world. Just as I'm curious about why and how people who lived for years without faith found it, as is the case of Jennifer of Conversion Diary, I'm curious about the reverse as well. I think it's important for Christians in particular to understand why those who don't believe have become (or have always been) disillusioned by faith. For one, within that mindset, there might be some clues into how we can lead even better faith lives. On occasion, we even find points of agreement within that atheistic mindset. But certainly, places of divergence as well.

Case in point: this particular writer contends that through reason, one can be lifted from the darkness of faith. And really, this is where I choose to bring my part of this online discussion of sorts to a close. There is nowhere for me, as one who has experienced the light of faith with every fiber of my being (body and soul), to go with this except back to the Light of Lights.

A friend of mine recently reminded me of something St. John of the Cross once said; something to the effect that it's not the ones who boast about sitting next to God who are the closest to him, but those who are silent because they realize how impossible it is to contain God in their words. Though I have not always been silent about my love for God, nor do I think I ought to be, I do realize the truth of that very last thought. It is indeed impossible to contain God in my words. I might try, but I will always fall short in explaining the depth of all that God is.

And while we've got St. John of the Cross with us, the writer also argues that Christians are not thinkers, that those who truly think and reason inevitably become agnostic, and then, if they are really diligent in their thinking, atheist. I mention this because of the glaring error within those words. Who can call the writings of our church fathers, and the mystics, and all those deep-thinking saints who have brought us more deeply into our faith mere fluff, not reasonable?

In the end, though, there is nothing I can say to appease those who believe a life of non-belief is the more honorable, the right path. Nothing at all. And honestly, though I will stand up for my Catholic/Christian faith any day, it really requires no defense. The lived reality of its fruits are enough. Words can only go so far in explaining faith. It must be experienced to be grasped.

Before I go, I do feel I owe Heaving Dead Cats an apology for having pushed a button or two through my desire to make a point. As with all those with whom I come into contact, I wish her peace. She has a right to live her life however she sees fit.

And on that note, peace to all you readers in the week ahead. May you be blessed often in this waiting time of Advent's third week!

Q4U: Where did you see/feel the light of faith this weekend?

faith fridays: the backward leap of faith

Tonight I had the privilege of watching my daughter Beth (above right) perform as a dancer in our school's annual Advent program. This night is among my favorite events of the Advent season, and the ninth such event I've had the honor of attending. Even better, Beth's godmother, Katie, is the dance choreographer. On this particular night, it is so easy to feel joy, pride, peace and hope.

I still remember with vividness the first such Advent program I witnessed. As I watched the grace of the dancers flitting about the worship space, absorbed the colors of their costumes and the banners used for dramatic effect, and heard the sweet voices of the readers and singers sharing words of the hope surrounding this season of...(looking around in every direction...) CHRISTMAS (...oh yeah, baby, did that feel good!!!), I thought, "Yes. YES! This is why we have made the sacrifice to have our kids attend Catholic schools!" On this night, our children are free to express what it's all about, without hesitation, without embarrassment. They are free to shine light and spread the good news that our Lord and Savior is coming to dwell among us. This all feels so real and right and lovely that it can only have been inspired by God himself.

And speaking of God, recently I was having a conversation with my 13-year-old, who told me about a conversation that had taken place in seventh-grade religion class. "Mom, our teacher said that in order to believe in God, we may at some point have to take a leap of faith. But I was thinking about that, and I think it's harder to go the other way -- to try to believe God doesn't exist."

Wow. I mean, yeah, girl, you are right! (I love it when my kids get me thinking about something in a fresh, new way.) Sure, most Christians have moments of doubt, but when witnessing something like tonight's Advent program, it is much, much harder to deny the existence of a loving, omnipotent Creator.

Nevertheless, I accidentally happened upon the blog of an atheist recently called Heaving Dead Cats. In the post I read, the writer was explaining her epiphany that though she detests everything about the Christmas holiday (naturally), she was considering celebrating something so as to not feel like such a Scrooge. As I read her post, "Letting the Holiday Pendulum Come to the Middle," I couldn't help but feel sad that she's likely never felt the warmth of the light within the Christian faith, and because of that, she's been reduced to making fun of all things Christian and creating silly traditions as a sort of protest of what she finds ridiculous and distasteful. In another part of her blog, I found quotes like this: "Believing is easier than thinking. Hence so many more believers than thinkers." -- Bruce Calvert  and "It’s not a war on Christmas...It’s a war on false gods, false prophets, and false promises."

I read  those words and see a blatant disconnect between that which she believes to be the case and that which I've experienced. And I wish that she'd realize that we Christians are thinkers who still believe, and that Jesus is the most real thing that's ever happened to the world, and that God brought her into being.
Certainly, we Christians don't get it right every time. In fact, we mess up a whole lot! We sin, we doubt, we diverge from the path at times. But at the very least, if we do try stay the course, there is something called hope that shines brightly upon our horizon. This (hope) is something that atheists can have in only small degrees, since in their view, the world ends when it ends and that's that. The Christian mentality (reality I would say) hinges on living as well as we can now to prepare for the Peaceable Kingdom to come.

That's what tonight's program was themed: The Peaceable Kingdom. And tonight, I can't help but feel profoundly grateful for hope, for light, for the prospect of peace. I'm thankful for my son, Adam, for singing so well; for my daughter, Beth, for dancing and singing with such beauty; and for my daughter, Olivia, for reminding me that the backward leap of faith is much more likely to land me on my bottom than the one which propels me forward and into hope.

Q4U: How do you cultivate hope?

writing wednesdays: the charism of writing

What is a charism? That's what I wanted to know, too. And now I do. The writing charism is among my strongest gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Here are my other top five charisms:

Music, Wisdom, Knowledge, Pastoring and Prophecy

And those least likely to be special spiritual strengths/gifts of mine:

Administration, Discernment of Spirits, Healing, Giving and Hospitality

(Sorry to all those who come to my home expecting gifts and an extra plate of food. I'm more Mary then Martha, apparently!)

To read more about this fascinating topic, please visit today's post on Peace Garden Writer!

mama mondays: just when you thought you knew where kittens came from...

Kid quotes:

Nick, 5: (Sighing, looking at the cat...) "I wish Skittles could have babies."

Beth, 10: "Yeah they would be cute, wouldn’t they?"

Nick: "Okay, let’s be quiet now and let her rest so she can lay her eggs."

Then the next day, this little ditty:

Nick (to self): "The day before tomorrow is…today!"

***

I'm really going to miss when Nick's thoughts are not so innocent, so fresh and full of discovery with a slightly altered understanding of reality. I love the simplicity with which children think through the world around them. I don't mean to say children are simpletons. Indeed, their thoughts are quite complex, philosophical even. But if only we could all approach life with such wonder.

My weekend started out on a lovely note. I was able to meet one of my local blogging friends for the first time. So many of the blogs I read are written by people I can't easily meet face to face, so the chance to experience a real encounter with someone becomes a special treat.

It's even more of a blessing when you are able to easily converse with that person, quickly find common ground, and move right into the important topics of life. Above is a screen shot of the profile page for Vicky of Westra World. She's the mother of two busy boys and is a very nice gal. We even learned we have connections through some of the mutual people we know (and know people we know). (Singing the "It's a Small World" theme now...) Our lunch took place at a restaurant overlooking the Red River of the North, and included a fun show of squirrels frolicking through the Winter Wonderland outside, as viewed from our window seat.

While I'm at it, a shout-out to another of my local blog pals, Marie. Marie and I had our first-time encounter around this same time of year in 2008. Recently, her husband took a bit of a winter dive while trying to string Christmas lights, partly to appease their young son, Murray, and injured his back. I'm so proud of Marie for how she's been handling what is certainly a crisis within their family right now. Visit her at Murray's Momma.

To the rest of my blogging friends near and far, thanks for brightening my life with your kind sentiments and enjoyable posts. And to you readers-only out there, you, too, are very appreciated. Thanks for stopping by and either leaving comments or sending an email with your thoughts.

A re-cap to the rest of the weekend. I had the most wondrous Friday evening taking in my very first Concordia College Christmas concert with my daughters and one of their friends. True to form, I began shedding tears of awe and appreciation about five minutes into the program. Thankfully, it was in the dark at that point and I was able to quietly wipe them away. I've said it before and likely will again: I'm a huge sap. I feel deeply, and among those feelings are profound gratitude and joy when I'm a witness to God's beautiful creation. Likewise, my heart stirred when my daughters joined me in being cantors for Mass Saturday evening, and as I helped celebrate the 50th year of life of a friend Saturday night (and experiencing the fun birthday rap another friend wrote and produced for said party).


Q4U: What beautiful thing struck you with awe in recent days?

faith fridays: the blessed waiting

http://lightondarkwater.typepad.com/lodw/2008/12/page/2/

"God reveals himself to us in the commonest events, in a manner as mysterious but as real and adorable as in the great events of history and the Sacred Scriptures." -- 

Fr. J.P. de Caussade, S.J., Self-Abandonment to Divine Providence

Ahhhhh. Can you feel the warmth of the single lit candle? Advent has begun.

This has become one of my favorite times of year, but this year, it was made even more special when I was asked to speak at an Advent event at a local parish across the river. The event was a fundraiser for a mothers' group to raise funds for babysitting expenses and other operating costs. Beyond that, it was a beautiful evening of pretty tables uniquely decorated, each individually by a table host, and with distinct desserts and table settings. It took place in a dimly-lit room, illuminated mostly by candlelight. As the women chatted preceding the evening's introduction, a lone, beautiful voice sounded above the din, seemingly having come out of nowhere: "Pre-e-e-pare ye the way of the Lord. Pre-e-e-pare ye the way of the Lord!"

It was a dramatic beginning to a night of music, carols, dessert, prayer, and my talk, which included the playing of Amy Grant's powerful song, "Emmanuel." To say that I felt honored to be a part of this evening as a speaker is a vast understatement, but even if I were to have come as a participant only, I would have claimed it as one of the most meaningful ways I've ever experienced the onset of Advent.

I called my talk "The Blessed Waiting," weaving the waiting of Advent into the waiting my friend Roberta, the founder of the group, had endured in this last year as she battled leukemia. I felt Roberta's presence in the writing of the presentation, and I felt her all around us as we basked in the glow of the candlelight on Monday evening. The waiting wasn't always easy on Roberta, but it was fruitful. It brought new insight, an expanding surrender to God's will, and the chance to express love in a deeper way than had been possible before. I'm inspired by Roberta to let this Advent be one in which the waiting will count more than ever, and I challenged those present to the same.

Despite this grand beginning to the season, the next day the realization came that I hadn't so much as put my Advent wreath and candles on the kitchen table, as is our family's annual custom. It was time to put into practice within my home a little of the spirit of Advent I'd taken in during Monday's special gathering. Alas, the purple candle has been lit for two dinners now, and a short Advent reflection read. I've also instituted the new tradition of going around the table and sharing "Random Acts of Kindness" sightings to help the kids become more aware of the good that we are doing and seeing others do in our lives.

In my talk Monday night, I suggested simplicity as a goal this Advent. So I'm taking my own advice, though in a busy family of seven, it's very hard to limit activities. We have a mid-winter dance recital Monday, an Advent program Thursday, and a variety of other activities in between. Still, there will be little decorating at this early stage in the season. I'm intent on maintaining a reflective heart, to seriously ponder how I can best make the waiting blessed and fruitful so that when we celebrate the Savior's entrance into the earthly world several weeks from now, I'll be ready.

Q4U: How are you keeping things simple this Advent? What is one Advent tradition your family has kept going through the years?

writing wednesdays: talkin' 'bout tortoises

If you haven't considered just how the tortoise can aid your writing, then slothfully slip over to Peace Garden Writer to find out. Hint: you'll be freed to look out the window without guilt!

Beat the hare -- see you there!

PGM