Black Friday

The clock has just turned.  It is Friday. I’m sure there are many of my fellow citizens at the mall but I have found myself catching up on thoughtful words from friends and strangers connected to me through my Google Reader.

Mostly, I’m thinking about Advent.  I find myself wanting that shift.  I want something new.  I want to understand what is going on.  (It feels like there is a lot going on.)  I can relate very well to this question of where Advent begins.  I want to be awake.  I want that new thing to appear — but I also hear an invitation to let go.  Like the Celtic monks, I need to figure out a way to let go of my oars and trust the wind.  Ick.  So hard.

Splashing Oar by Edward Townend Photography.

So, tonight, I’m wondering about this shift in liturgical time and how it might reorient my heart and soul as I look toward the birth.  I’m not just thinking though.  I’m making very specific steps. On Sunday, I’ll begin my own journey toward Birthing the Holy.  A few days later, I’ve committing myself to a desire to reflect intentionally about what comes next in #Reverb10.  Now, I’m preparing to prepare.  I suppose I’m just trying to listen. This is the very encouragement that StoryCorps offers annually on this day where so many people rush to the mall.  They ask us to listen. Today, we’re asked to listen and I find this startling particularly as this question was asked by Amy Frykholm earlier this week:

What if churches all over the country committed to this project, collecting stories about their own histories and the stories of their communities? What would we do with this rich reservoir of stories? And what would we learn from practicing the difficult discipline of listening?

Indeed. What would happen if we listened? What would happen if I listened? I don’t think I’ll have the answer today — but I’m preparing to hear something new.  That’s the promise of Christmas.

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