Whispering to Remember - Christmas 2017

Hope - Peace - Joy - Love - The Four Candles of Advent

It's Christmas 2017.
One entire year of the Trump Administration.

Usually reflecting on the year, no matter how hard, is a joy...
we have each other...
we will get through.

During the four weeks of Advent, one of my favorite traditions is the Advent Wreath.
We have four candles, three purple and one pink, set in a circle.
We get to light one each week...so that by the time Christmas comes around,
there is serious light in the darkness...
four bright candles...shining triumphantly.
Holding open the spot...creating space for a baby...and a miracle...and family.

I was pregnant at Christmas time twenty five years ago.
All these years later, I cherish that extra special time of singing and preparing for two babies during that Advent in 1992,
not just one.

But this year is different.

I feel the weight of a year's worth of lies.
A year's worth of looking the other way.
A year's worth of pretending everything is ok.

I feel the crushing crashing of dreams of so many Americans withering on the vine...
this week it is grad students due to the tax bill that gives massive deductions to corporations over its citizens...
months ago, it was those with disabilities...
those with medical conditions...
...people of color...
...women...
...the LGBTQ community...
...or immigrants...
...or refugees...
...or children.

A year ago, I could feel an entire nation of children's eyes watching the adults in the room
make excuses...
it doesn't matter that she's never been in a public school classroom...
or that he derides the Environmental Protection Agency...
or that he flies private planes all over the United States at our expense...
lower your eyes...
pretend you don't see.

Are our children any better twelve months later?
Sadly, no.

They've seen open racism and half-hearted excuses.

They've witnessed their President UNwelcome entire nations of people.

The've had to accept a new normal and the sickening taunts of a president...
corruption and people so achingly out-in-the-open greedy that it insults those that work to teach integrity and honesty.
They've witnessed the open disregard for suffering people in Puerto Rico...
the pointed, barbed insults to people hidden in the shadows working for our safety...
the FBI, the CIA...
and our press...
daily derided...
with blatant untruths...
and intentional misinformation.

*****

This Christmas I want to whisper who we are.I want to remind each of us what it means to be American.

Like the Advent candles, first I offer HOPE.We are better than this.
Integrity.
Character.
Honesty.
Humility.
THESE THINGS STILL MATTER.
Millions resist openly.
Millions more resist in the smallest of ways.
Two-thirds of us...the majority of us say NO.

Light the candle of hope...and see how it breaks the darkness.
The second offering is LOVE.
Love is opening the circle wider...building a longer table...
love is recognizing fear and still pushing up your sleeves to do the work.
Love is the answer...the only response to racism and sexism.
Love is knowing that all humans are equal and working against injustice...
it's seeing yourself in the stranger.
It is living in the present moment.
What can I do right now?
and then taking the first step to begin.

Choose love and you change the trajectory.

Ours is not a small God...the endless, timeless beauty of the universe whispers the grandeur of Higher Love.
Seize it.
Breathe it in.
It is yours everyday for the taking...
grace in the ordinary.

Can you hear the murmurings??

The third offering is JOY.
With so much hatred, corruption and villainy...joy can be hard to find...but it is there.
There, in the ironic plot twist of a transgender women winning the seat away from someone who bragged that he was "Chief Homophobe" in Virginia.
In the way the sun still sets...the clouds still swirl across the sky...
the perfect simplicity of a cup of tea...or an act of kindness...a baby's laugh...a toddler's wonder...
rain on a rooftop...clothes fresh from a dryer...firefighters who work to save houses...and teachers who read out loud to students stories that bind us together.
Pick up a rock.
Try to watch the dance of a snowflake.
Gather friends together and cherish their company.
Walk your dog.
Hug your kid.
Dance.

Laugh.

The last offering is PEACE.This seems like a wish.
A fantasy.
Something out of reach.
But tonight I listened to a mother who had to bury her first grader after he was murdered at his elementary school in Newtown live her life with forgiveness at its core.
Five years after every mother's worst heartbreak, a woman named Scarlett showed me the way.
Forgiveness carries peace on its wings.
Scarlett mentioned:
Nurturing, Healing Love.
She wants every human to have that and recognizes that her child's killer was unable to
either receive or give love.

One year of Trump's despicable behavior...his devastating cruelty...his duplicitous companions that tolerate the tarnishing of all that is sacred about our country...
one entire year.

Advent offers light in the darkness.
My whisper blows it forward...
to you...
to another you...and another you...
as Pope Francis said in his TED Talk:
"Hope begins with you and then another you and another you
until it becomes US.
When there is an us, there is a Revolution of Tenderness."

I'm ready for the Revolution.

I know you are too...
let us begin.
Light the candle.
Notice the warmth.
Offer it to others.
Remember the way home.
Be honest.
Work hard.
Resist.

We are better than this.
Demand it.

Little Voices...Big Message

"We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today." -- Stacia Tauscher

My heart is so full.  So full to the brim, it is bursting with love and peace and connection.  What did I do?  How did this transformation happen?

  I attended a mass presented by First Graders.

Up at the podium stood a line of small children...each were waiting their turn.  Some had hands tucked in pockets.  Some were looking down.  Some were nervous and awkward and extra careful.  They all took a turn and repeated the line they had practiced: softly, slowly, carefully and reverently.  Next to them was their teacher, arm wrapped around them for support...whispered words to help or clarify or encourage.  They knew this was the big time.  They knew they had to do a good job.  This was their chance to shine. 

Their radiant, holy light was luminous.

There is something so holy about hearing sacred words read by a tiny voice.  Something so humanizing and beautiful.  Listening to those tiny children my heart just kept filling up.  Is this how we sound to God?  So fragile. So small. So meek.  No wonder he gives us his blessing!

After mass, the entire class shared drawings and words about how they viewed Jesus.

He always shows up.

He is always ready to listen.

He is calm and loving.

He is your friend.

It hit me so clearly that the tears came...a big neon sign pointing the way.  That is exactly what we need from you, mom.  We need kindness and second chances and your presence.

Just as I was catching my breath, an entire class of First Grade voices started singing, "You've Got A Friend In Me".  They were smiling now.  They were confident and triumphant. Together, their voices could make an entire church full of bigger kids and adults stop and take notice.

God's biggest blessing comes to us in the form of an infant.  His tiny voice belies the great, great spirit transcending time and space.  He approaches us in a vulnerable, needy way...mirroring for us our frailty and natural weakness.

Today I am so grateful for tiny voices and the big messages they carry.  I am humbled and moved.  Thank you to an entire class of six year olds for showing the way.  Thank you for your love, your grace and your immeasurable presence.
You are the heart of God.

Once Upon A TIme

Once upon a time there was a daddy that held his newborn baby on the first day of July and heard the words: Down Syndrome, open heart surgery and heart defect all in the same sentence.  Holding that baby that was barely an hour old the daddy felt sadness and fear like a total eclipse.  His normal sunshine had a shadow.  He could barely breathe.  He couldn't stop holding his baby.  He had to leave his wife and carry his tiny bundle up to some tests. Those tests would reveal the heart defect that was suspected.  As the daddy was watching the tests, all alone and desperate, a song was playing.

In The Arms of an Angel

That melody, those words and the moment created an indescribable peace and comfort for this daddy.  He held onto that in his hours and days of bad news that followed.  He could feel the blessing he was given.  He knew his son had a rough road ahead but he also knew that the "arms of an angel" would wrap them all up and see them through.

For nine weeks, that baby tried to grow.  At the weekly weigh-ins at the doctor's office, the mommy dreamed of adding little pebbles to the baby's socks so that there would be some weight gained but she knew it would only delay the truth: the heart that was their baby's had only one large chamber and only one valve.  A skilled surgeon would need to build the walls of that baby's heart and create two valves out of one.  The hope was to wait until that baby got bigger but it took way too much energy to eat.  Every meal was like a full workout for that tiny baby.  Normally, it takes about six weeks for a baby's lungs to fully adapt to breathing oxygen.  Once that happened, the lungs tried to do the work of the heart for our baby and he officially went into heart failure. Open heart surgery was no longer sometime in the future.  The time was now, September.

As that daddy held his tiny son, the darkness and fear couldn't help but begin their march toward this daddy's big open heart.  He needed something to get him through this scary part.  He wanted to picture life after open heart surgery.  He tried to imagine the months following.  He couldn't.  All he knew was that within a little while Christmas was coming and his other two children, ages 6 and 4, would be eagerly awaiting Santa's arrival. Would his baby be here for Christmas? Would he survive?  Would he ever know all of the joy that Christmas brings?

Those thoughts swirled around in a sea of fright and hope, a mixture of possibility and worry and landed on one guiding thought.  The daddy announced: "If we get through this and our baby survives we are going to have the biggest, most amazing Christmas decorations and lights to celebrate.  Every year we will add to it and soon we will have the brightest, most dazzling celebration light show around our town."

Miraculously that baby hung on for dear life.  He survived his rib cage being pulled apart, his body being put on a bypass machine so that all of the blood could empty from the heart, his heart being cut open and the "electric field" being broken, the surgeon maneuvering a Dacron patch to create the missing walls and the surgeon somehow using the tissue from one valve to create two.  He withstood a breathing tube, three days without food and two chest tubes to drain the fluids from his body still measured in inches.  He was enveloped by music that brought comfort and hope. And he weathered that invasive attack on his small body with the grace of a baby.  Any one of us would be complaining, reliving the tortuous moments, worrying about recovery and trying to imagine feeling better.  The baby slept and ate and snuggled in and healed remarkably quickly.

Within a few days it was clear that the baby was going to see Christmas.  The daddy got busy.  True to his word he bought some Christmas lights, box after box, bordering on obnoxious and teetering on over the top.  He didn't care.  He bought a jigsaw and started cutting wood.  He created a lollipop forest, a row of candy canes and a gingerbread house.  He let his young children sand and paint and get messy. He was a former master at creating a parade float.  He knew how to set up a large party.  Those skills came in handy for the Christmas light project. 

Each year, the daddy gets out his jigsaw and creates another wooden character.  Twelve years later there is a North Pole sign being held by a penguin, Santa and his sleigh, Mrs. Claus, three snowmen (one in honor of baby Caroline wearing a pink scarf) , a mailbox where you can mail a letter to Santa, and last year's newest addition an angel.

"Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” 

~Norman Vincent Peale

This year's newest addition -- after much voting and discussion -- was an ice-skater, skating in 

Rock-elf-eller Center. 

Twelve years later that faithful daddy still celebrates the miracle of his baby's health.  He brightens up his neighborhood at Christmas and remembers to acknowledge the light during times of darkness.  

May we each take the time to brighten up our small corner of the world: through our actions, our faith, our generous heart and our mindful moments of optimism even during the darkest hours. Someone once called it: stubborn gladness.  With only a handful of days until we celebrate a real miracle, let's steep in stubborn gladness, reflect joy and be messengers of hope...just like a certain house I know.