At the back

Fourth Sunday in Advent... the service of the Word at 10:30 was the Nativity.  This year I saw the whole thing from behind.

I saw everything

From behind: the running

Of the angels,

The wise people,

The star in gold lame’

Keeping Advent

In my parish home, the angels will run to the manger, as they do every year on the fourth Sunday in Advent. I used to be more of an Advent purist. Clearly I am not anymore. Still... I seem to keep Advent despite everything around me. Advent stays in place until Christmas comes. Even with angels running to the manger.

I find myself

Keeping  Advent

Even without the home wreath

This year

Even without purple

Or even blue

Accents.

I keep Advent

Watch the days

Grow short,

The dark comes sooner.

The pageant has inhabited

Advent four

With its final purple candle.

I will wait

On the periphery,

Still keep Advent

As I watch the angels run

To the manger

As they do

Every year

On Advent four.

More tracks

The snow beckons outside.  Paths have been shoveled, roads have been plowed.  There are still vast backyard stretches, even fields, which call for snow angels.

I remember years ago

Fresh fallen snow

In the moonlight

A smudge of tracks

Tiny paw prints,

Thin line connector,

One mouse

Braved the journey.

Today

In the sun

In places no mouse

Even squirrel

Has dared to run,

Vast blank fields

Of snow

Call like Circe

For snow angels.

The running of the angels

Every year the pageant is different.  Of course it is.  This year the angels took the cake.

The angels entered this morning

Stage center.

At rehearsal yesterday,

The angels appeared

In silence,

Surprised the Angel of the Lord

No end.

This morning

We had

The running of the angels.

Stage center.

They pounded

Toward the manger,

Haloes and wings

Bounced with every step.

The angels

Were not be missed.

First they were heard on high

From the choir loft,

Then came

The running of the angels.

Angel time

Snow calls for haiku  :)

It might be time for

Angels in the snow, not just

Shoveling the stuff.

Angel chaos

It*s no secret that I love children*s Christmas pageants.  We did not make it to either the 3 or 5 PM services where the children told the story yesterday, where all children were given angel, sheep or shepherd accoutrements at the door.  I appreciated the angel chaos left behind for the more dignified 10:30 service.

At the late service

We walked to the altar rail

For Communion.

We walked through traces

Of angel chaos,

Gold and silver tinsel

Left from earlier services.

Thank goodness

It was left on the floor

For us to see

At the later service.

Glimpses of earlier

Angel chaos.

Michaelmas

I wonder as the seminary moves near the airport, as the bishop*s body has been re-interred in Wisconsin, as the stained glass saints are now part of Northwestern University... what will happen to Michaelmas term?  Fall term doesn*t capture it in the same way at all.  All the angels will need re-inventing in the new place near the airport.

I remember the beginning

Of Michaelmas term

In seminary.

I had never heard of Michaelmas

Before then.

I was very Protestant,

Though a number of my classmates

Nodded knowingly.

At least they pretended

To know.

Michael and all the angels

Stood on our shoulders,

Sat next to us,

Inhabited the stained glass.

We stood and knelt,

Prayed and sat between the stained glass saints,

William Palmerston Anderson

(his body)

Buried underneath the altar.

There was something of comfort

About all the angels gathered,

Led by Michael the dragon-slayer.

I remember

It was something of comfort

In this new place.