It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

                  It's Friday evening, December 22. By Christmas Day, all decorations should be in place, all baking done, and the house as spotless as I can make it, given the ubiquitous presence of Greye-the-cat, and Billy-the-grandson, whose room is off limits.

                Both china cabinets and the dining table are decorated, as well as the buffet. The living room chairs and sofas are still laden with plastic bins of decorations awaiting last minute attention. Mantel--done in red maroon and sliver. Piano--Christmas music retrieved from bench. Coffee table--that'll have to be the last surface to be “Yule-d.” Bathroom towels are in place, so that’s done. Mincemeat pie  aroma, cheese log waiting for caramel coating, almond-barked pretzels tinned. Fudge on schedule for tomorrow.

              But I CAN’T FIND the BABY JESUS! I had him last year! Four bins of Christmas stuff, but no BABY JESUS. Surely there's another sack or box in the attic. SURELY.

              Using gourds, huge pine cones and large, gaudy ornaments, I filled a large basket for the outside-part of the window AC.

                I hung a Christmas-themed porch flag, and set up a wooden creche of Billy’s –with his permission—on the shelf of my china hutch.

             Oh, and after tripping and face-planting into the tree and table, I had to discard the poor table and find a sturdy oak TV table as a substitute. I'll likely have a black eye Sunday at church. What kind of story can I make up to explain it???

            But now, I MUST find Baby Jesus!

               

Ah! I found BABY JESUS! All is well. Merry Christmas, and thanks to all who read this blog.

c 2017, Pat Laster dba lovepat press

               

Third week of Advent: Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus

                 Advent after Advent after Advent, we sing this 267-year-old hymn by Charles Wesley. And Christmas after Christmas after Christmas, we sing “We Would See Jesus,” written in 1913. During the church year, we sing “Turn Your eyes Upon Jesus,” from a poem written in 1922.

                Well, folks, a few years back, I saw Jesus! Of all places, Jesus was sitting in a booth in La Hacienda. He was alone and facing us as we were led to our booth behind him. He was young with kind eyes, straight brown hair falling to his shoulders--he could have stepped out of the picture of Jesus found in nearly every church and in many homes.

 His laptop was open. He looked up and smiled as we passed. I glanced back and saw what appeared to be a screen of emails.

                The waiter took our order, and I goofed by asking for one thing when I meant another. In a minute or two, Jesus turned in his booth and genially commented about my mistaken order. We laughed.

                Once during our meal, I looked up and Jesus was gone. Had he vaporized or “vibrated to another level,” as a friend said describing a disappearance? The word we use is “ascended.”

                No, Jesus was visiting with people at a nearby table. He might have been preaching, but I doubt it. He returned to his booth and laptop. As we left, I caught his eye and waved. He said, “Have a nice day.”

                J. Edgar Park, nearly a century ago, took the first line from another person’s hymn, “We Would See Jesus, for the shadows lengthen,” and wrote his hymn to express “youth, promise and sunshine and an inner glimpse of the Young Man of Nazareth living and moving among us.”

                What if? Some believe angels live among us, why not Jesus, whom this young man resembled.

Why not? Crowds weren’t flocking around. I wish I’d passed my napkin to him for an autograph. I wish I’d asked him if other folks had mentioned his resemblance to Our Savior. Sigh . . . .

This experience led me from pray-singing “Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus,” through “We Would [hope to] see Jesus,” to “I’ve Just Seen Jesus,”  to the mantra, “Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus, and... find that the things of earth” are mere trifles.

Reference: Carlton Young, editor, Companion to the United Methodist Hymnal, Abingdon Press, Nashville, 1993.

c 2017, PL

               

Advent: What and who are we waiting for? And why?

from Google Images

          There are only two instances of “waiting” listed in the volume, Where to Find It in the Bible: the Ultimate A to Z Resource, by Ken Anderson, published by Nelson:  

            When God made his promise to Abraham, he swore by himself, because he had no one greater to swear by: 'I vow that I will bless you abundantly and multiply your descendants.’ Thus it was that Abraham, after patient waiting, attained the promise. ––Hebrews 6: 13-1

            The other is in Genesis 29:20ff. Jacob waited––and worked seven years to gain the hand of Rachel. The rest of the story is worth re-reading. While Laban surreptitiously sent Leah to Jacob by night, Jacob found out and was furious with his uncle. Jacob had to work––and wait–– seven more years to earn Rachel’s hand. Altogether, Jacob stayed with Laban twenty years, though not all of it was “waiting.”

            How––and how long––do we wait? Do we wait in exasperation while the computer wakes up? Yes. Or when searching for something we put away yesterday and forgot where? Yes.

            Or do we wait in dread when our teenagers are two hours past curfew and it’s senior prom night? Or when we hear sirens and wonder if it’s someone we know and love?

            Or do we wait in excitement because our out-of-state children are coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas? Or because a family member has decided to re-enter the loving fold?

            D. Todd Williamson, of the Chicago Archdiocese office of Divine Worship believes it’s the latter kind of excitement that we are called to during Advent. He also believes we should wait in joyful hope:

           “At Mass, (or during church for us United Methodists) after praying the Lord’s Prayer, we hear “. . . as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ.” This prayer reminds us that during Advent, we wait in joy, in hope, and in anticipation for the wonderful event we are about to experience— . . . the coming of Christ into our lives in new ways, the return of Christ in glory at the end of time. As the [c]hurch, we wait during Advent and look forward to celebrating the fact that God loves us so much that he sent his Son into the world to save us. This waiting is far from empty; rather, it is full of the hope that God promises us as we prepare for Christ in the feast of Christmas.”

            In the Advent hymn, “Send Your Word,” (Yasushige Imakoma, 1983), page 195 in the UM hymnal., let's substitute the word “wait” and “long for” for the word “seek.”

“We await your endless grace, with souls that hunger and thirst, sorrow, and agonize.”

           “We await your wondrous power, pureness that rejects all sins, though they persist and cling.”

           “We await your endless love . . . we long for your new world.”

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Written for Dot Hatfield's 2015 Advent booklet. The message still stands as we patiently wait. And hope. And love. Peace and joy to you.

c 2017, PL. 

           

           

Sometimes the answer’s right in front of us

            I need an Advent devotional, I said to myself one year while still in the choir at Salem UMC. My BFF Dot collects, edits and publishes an Advent Booklet each year and asked me for an entry. Something/someone––Muse and/or Holy Spirit––hit me between the eyes and said, Duh! You have a folder full of Advent anthems on your lap. Surely …

              “Advent Processional” (words from scripture, music by Anna Laura Page) begins with Isaiah’s proclamation to prepare the way of the Lord. And––anthem-like, prophet-like, parent-like–– the phrase is repeated, drummed, as it were, into our feeble and flighty brains.

But how to prepare lo these many eons from Isaiah’s tongue lashings? Rejoice … sing … give praise to God! Does that mean feed the hungry, clothe the cold, build houses for the homeless?

Who, me?

             “Creation will be at peace,” our director’s favorite Advent anthem, uses scenes from Isaiah 11. In the holy mountain of the Lord, creation will be at peace … all war and strife will cease.

It’ll have to be in the future, because it’ll never happen on this planet! At least literally. Not the way we act today.

                In that blessed day, wolves, lambs, cows and bears will be friendly to each other and they will be led by a child. The child Jesus? The child God? The sick children among us? The beauty pageant child? It defies belief.

          “Come like the snow,” words by Herb Frombach, is a plea from our point-of-view, always about Jesus:

Like the snow … he will wash us clean … he will drift into our hearts (set on earthly concerns) and bring us peace…

There’s that wish for peace again. Surely … that’s to be found only “in the mountain of the Lord,” in the days after Jesus comes again. Surely not here and now!

Unless …  Perhaps another level of Isaiah’s meaning is that today, we are to be instruments of peace––among ourselves, our churches, our neighbors, those we meet in the office, in school, in the market, on the highway, at Fred’s, the bank, the cafe …

You think? … That should be doable.

c 2017 PL