Trying On Advent

This morning, before church, I was reading through a few of my favorite blogs and I realized it was the first Sunday of Advent.  Though I didn't have a wreath with purple and pink candles, I donned my purple suit coat instead.  I may wear it for the next two Sundays. Then, I will wear pink.  Dare I say it?  I think I will be the candle.  A living light. That's kind of a tall order for me, a sinner.  A mother with children and hectic work, school, sports, and church schedules.  I can bend my "light" toward crabby in an impatient instant.  But, I'm thinking that's what Advent might be for.  A preparation, a mindfulness, attending to the Christ child the way I would my own.  I wonder if anyone will notice? I want to prepare my mind and heart for the coming of Jesus.

I remember the Advent wreaths and calendars in my home as I was growing up. It was almost magical opening the little doors of the calendar and lighting those candles, though I admit, I didn't understand their meaning at the time. Truly, most of what I remember of those Advent days was squabbling with the rest of my 9 siblings over who was going to get to open the little calendar door or light the purple candle, and the hurt feelings that ensued after discovering it wasn't me. That, and no one ever seemed to want to do the reading part.   Now, I have a strong desire to do the reading part.

I came across a book review by Glynn Young in his blog Faith, Fiction and Friends of Discovering Advent, by Mark D. Roberts.   Young wrote a compelling review.  I know this because after reading it, I was compelled to buy the e-book this morning and read it this afternoon.   So now,  I can vouch for both reviewer and author. =)

As I was reading through Discovering Advent, it occurred to me that my work in raising and photographing monarch butterflies is another way of looking at Advent which is latin for "coming."  As I raise and photograph the  monarch transformation (which I affectionately refer to as a "Trust-formation,") I wait and hope for the promise of a monarch butterfly.  In the same way, I wait and hope and actively engage with the spirit of God in my own transformation or Trust-formation when I choose to abide in him.  In the same way, I wait in hopeful anticipation for the second coming of Christ and the fulfillment of his promises.   I appreciated that  Mark Roberts encourages us to enter into this time of Advent creatively.  

He writes, "All families are different, and I encourage you to adapt or to change what I suggested here, or do something completely original."

And so, over the next 4 Sundays,  I offer my Advent blog post, Trying On Advent.  I will use 4 photographs of the progressive transformation of monarchs I've raised to illustrate the "coming" combined with the following excerpts from  Mark Roberts' Advent Devotional Guide which is also found in his wonderful book Discovering Advent.  The photographs and prayers are from me.

A special thank you to Glynn Young and Mark D. Roberts for pointing me in this direction.

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First Sunday of Advent - Waiting
(from Discovering Advent by Mark D. Roberts)

Advent is a season of waiting, expecting, and hoping. Beginning four Sundays prior to Christmas and ending on Christmas Eve, Advent helps us prepare for the coming, or “advent” of the Christ child at Christmas. The word “advent” comes from the Latin word that means “coming.”

We remember Israel’s hope for the coming of God’s Messiah to save, to forgive, and to restore. We remember our hope for the second coming of Jesus. We remember our need for a Savior to save us from our sins. We prepare to welcome Christ at Christmas into our world . . . and into our hearts.  Roberts, Mark D. (2011-11-07). Discovering Advent: How to Experience the Power of Waiting on God at Christmastime (Kindle Locations 533-537). Patheos. Kindle Edition.

For God alone my soul waits in silence, for my hope is from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my deliverance and my honor; my mighty rock, my refuge is in God.

Psalm 62:5-7

monarch butterfly egg - photo by Patricia Spreng

I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
more than those who watch for the morning,
more than those who watch for the morning.

Psalm 130:5-6

Roberts, Mark D. (2011-11-07). Discovering Advent: How to Experience the Power of Waiting on God at Christmastime (Kindle Locations 454-455). Patheos. Kindle Edition.

My prayer:

Thank you for planting the seed of faith in my life... for allowing me to grow in hopeful anticipation as I transform and wait.  For I know whom I have believed...

I wait for your coming Lord Jesus.
Preparing you room…
in my heart, my mind and my home.
I am nesting, as though heavy with child.

My heart quiets and quickens in anticipation of being with you.

Help me to make wise choices in the chaos of Christmas …
taking in, believing, embracing your promise of Christmas…
Emmanuel, God with us.
God with me…
as I wait for you.
Come Lord Jesus.

Patricia Spreng

Sharing with Charity Singleton at Wide Open Spaces for the Advent writing project she is hosting at The High Calling.
and
with Laura Bogess at The Wellspring

I stole a day…

I stole a day this morning

pajama clad and all

sleeping in

me, my Lord, and I

'til jays' loud calling

sent me pointing lens upon the world

with coffee brewing just for one

sending  gentle wake up chimes

flowing softly through my veins

I stole a day this afternoon

pajama clad and all

no calendar, clock or phone

chores that called remained undone

reading still and writing more

napping on the sun room chair

‘til little dog who came to play

took me out of doors

that way

(pajama clad and all)

I stole a day this evening

still pajama clad

eating breakfast then dessert

leisure drinks so tall

pages filled with letters

truth and tears

smiling at baby doves

momma warming feathers nearby

I stole a night tonight

prayers adoring, begging,

wrestling, resting

reading read

ready for bed

content beyond all measure

pajama clad and all

Patricia Spreng

When was the last time you stayed in your pajamas all day…  and you were not sick at all?

Joining Laura Bogess at Playdates With God, and L.L. Barkat at In, On and Around Mondays.

Sharing yesterday's post with d'Verse Poetry today.. scroll down past text below (...if you must ;) for my poem, The Dying Garden

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Working for hospice, I have a unique privilege to see many lives come through our beautiful residence and pass on.  No one ever wants to go and live in a hospice home.  No one ever truly wants to visit there either. But, for those who need it, it is a beautiful home that provides loving end of life care to patients and their families. 

The other day, a large group of volunteers came to weed and clean out the gardens there.  We worked hard all day, pulling weeds, pruning, cutting back plants, and sweating.  I stood up, dirt on my hands and knees, and looked around me.  I knew there was more going on than just weeding. After all, we were standing in a living garden pulling out dead things.  Think of it. 

Right then, quietly, one of our ladies passed away and I watched her 7 children spill slowly out into the gardens to sit by the waterfall and walk the paths, absorbing the sunshine and fresh air… tears gently falling.  

Then, I noticed this bumble bee.  It was the huge kind of bumble bee that ordinarily hovers near your head and makes you duck.  But this one was not hovering… at all.  It was not gathering pollen.  It lay, barely moving, sprawled on the bed of this hydrangea, the softest bed of death.  I hoped this is how I would go… finish the work that God has for me and lay down in a beautiful place to die.  Our hospice home is the beautiful hydrangea.

There is a certain place between life and death.  I do not know if it has a name.  I have not studied it… but I have experienced it.  It’s a sacred place of passing… and I was standing in a sacred moment.  I wondered if the outside garden I was standing in, mirrored the ‘garden’ inside the hospice house.  A garden of lives, with thorns, illness, personalities, families, legacys, historys and names.  I felt sure that this earthly garden filled with beauty, weeds, death, new life and thorns was a very tiny picture of the difference between the gardens on earth and heaven.  Paradise, where there will be no more dying, disease or sorrow.  

The Dying Garden

garden of the dying

weeds of death appear

slowly, quietly accepted

welcomed even

expected as thorns and thistles
among beauty

tend the sanctuary

regrets ignored grow quickly

pulling pain and illness

harvesting what is

grieving what wasn’t

watering with cleansing tears
forgiveness rain

travel  sacred paths to find

deeply rooted legacy

perennial memories

calming hearts with lavender laughter

buds of new life

as hope blooms

 in the breeze of colors

swirling around gratitude bouquets

lay me down

on bed of bliss

tender place of passing

hold my hand and stay with me

‘til I let go

to  walk the Living Garden

Patricia Spreng

Joining today with the wonderful words of writers at Play Dates with God hosted by Laura Bogess at the Wellspring and On, In and Around Mondays hosted by LL Barkat at Seedlings in Stone

Who can say

which came first

rock or tree

or how, or when, or why

so being

rock and tree

neither moved

both changed

both defined

by the other

but the tree lived

striving

roots reaching slowly

as tendrils do

easing forward

around the rock

which remained

it thrived

at waters edge

where rock was cleansed, soothed

and smoothed over time

by Living water

not every rock

intended to be a destroyer

remains a destroyer

some remain

a catalyst

for greater growth

bringing awareness of
weakness and

the greater need

for grace and strength

Salvation

lest the tree

rely upon its own roots

Patricia Spreng

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  2 Corinthians 12: 8-9

     Paddling in my kayak, along the shore line of a small inland lake in West Michigan, I was gripped by the sight of this rock embedded in the root system of a tree. I'm sure the neighbors wondered what I was looking at for so long.  Especially when I came back later with a camera. 

     In Luci Shaw's book, Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination, and Spirit: Reflections on Creativity and Faith, (click on link below) she describes

 "the Spirit is an artist who knows the value of the creative act from divine experience; he’s the one who will baptize my spirit and my imagination and shape the images that he sends into words that bear his own fingerprints."

    "Baptize my spirit and my imagination"... yes.

    In my little kayak, it took no time for me to know and see God there with me, showing me this picture of my life.  I have spent much time hiding, trying to get rid of,  pointing to and blaming the rocks in my life.  But, it was clear to me in this moment that the God-allowed rocks in my root system are there for a purpose...His purpose.  His grace is sufficient.

  
    Luci Shaw quotes poet William Stafford:

So, the world happens twice—

once what we see it as,

second, it legends itself

Deep, the way it is.

   So, Lord, hear my prayer... touch me with Your fingerprints and baptize me again and again... always into Your deep waters.

Shaw, Luci (2009-09-01). Breath for the Bones (Kindle Locations 748-749). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

Shaw, Luci (2009-09-01). Breath for the Bones (Kindle Locations 1175-1177). Thomas Nelson. Kindle Edition.

Sharing today at The High Calling where we are exploring God-given creativity in Luci Shaw's book, Breath for the Bones: Art, Imagination and Spirit: A Reflection on Creativity and Faith , hosted by Laura J. Boggess
Also sharing today at Seedlings In Stone: On, In, and Around Mondays with L.L. Barkat