Sun-days

Curious, distant
Bright sensation on my face
Who is this stranger?

Sunday has taken its name seriously the past two weeks—a gift amidst the necessary, preparatory darkness of Advent. Erie gets a little bleak this time of year as we wait for the Solstice to give us hope; needless to say, days like this are extraordinary moments. (I even write a haiku, or two!)

I got outside for a bike ride and a walk these two Sundays. I cranked up my current favorite band, First Aid Kit. I allowed nature to do its thing to my soul. There is little I can think of more satisfying than making it to the top of one of the longer hills that I hike up on two wheels on East Lake, but the view is, without fail, worth it.

I think a lot about the barrenness of these winter months, especially when I am outside, especially seeing the empty grape vines that were so recently full of fragrance, especially during Advent when the goal is to make space to live an authentic Christian life as our true Hope emerges again.

Don't think the garden loses

it's ecstasy in winter. It's quiet.

But the roots are down there riotous.

Rumi, too, gives us poetic hope. I take great comfort in these words each winter, but it takes great effort to get to that point. Trust is hard enough with others, but to trust ourselves and God at work in our lives--that's an entirely different ball game!

Advent is such an opportune moment to practice our trust and our hope--so intertwined they are--especially in this liturgical season. May our Christian life be the practice we need.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

a taste of First Aid Kit