Advent 2.2

Two days into the week of Advent 2.  I am thinking we may need to find a way to have Christmas in the mess.  Pollyanna says: At least the kitchen has been painted red.  There is a psychologist I know who is promoting a messy Christmas.  I don*t think this is what he has in mind.  Then again... maybe it is.

Slowly slowly

We bite the dust.

My ears are plugged.

The daughter sleeps in.

The husband reports

Mild depression.

I listen to the chipper voice

Of the contractor

Downstairs.

Sun does shine through

The dust motes

Upstairs.

I look at the calendar

For the day,

Consider Christmas

Two weeks hence.

It will come.

It will come,

No matter the state

Of my ears,

No matter who sleeps in,

No matter who

Is mildly depressed.

The sun shines through

The dust motes.

The contractor remains

Chipper.

The old and the new

Tomorrow the appliances arrive.  The next step.  The painting is now complete.  The new puts the old into sharp relief.  The old has served us well.  We have had our current refrigerator for fifteen years.  It was here when we bought the house.  To be sure... its water stopped running, and we couldn*t replace the light in the refrigeration compartment.  But it continues to do its job, even in the dark.

The fresh paint smell

Permeates the house.

Of course now we notice

The fifteen years of paint

Declaring its age

On the other walls.

This is how it always is

When new

Confronts the old.

We stand back,

Let each declare

Its superiority.

Tomorrow 

The new refrigerator will arrive

While the old one looks on

From the living room,

Jealous of the stainless sleekness

The light that actually works

The water that cubes and shaves and flows

The efficiency rating:

A nine out of ten

Of available refrigerators.

The old one

Has served us

An amazing fifteen years.

We purchased the warranty

On the new one.

We have been warned.

Oh yes

We have been warned.

Advent Two

There is an advantage to years and years of Advent worship.  Even when I am recovering from a cold at home, on a Sunday, awake in a house in the midst of renovation, I can imagine two candles lit on the Advent wreath and the church year moving along exactly as it should.  I understand the second candle on the Advent wreath signifies hope.  I hope be present in church on Advent 3.

Everyone is in church

Right now

Or maybe

Just arrived home.

I have been home

All morning.

I remember Second Advent sermons.

I imagine two candles

Lit.

This year is Advent purple

Not blue.

I see it

In my mind*s eye.

I know the Sunday schedule.

I can picture the children

Winding up

To Christmas,

Their parents trying desperately

To hold them in place.

It rarely works.

This is Advent Two.

I am home.

Quiet Day

Quiet Day for St. Michael*s, Barrington this morning.  A wonderful opportunity.  I enjoyed it, except for the cough, which seemed to have a life of its own.  Bother.  Thankfully it did not claim the time I had to speak, just the quiet time in between.  I*m sure there*s something to be learned here... there always is.

The cough behaved itself

While I was speaking.

It could not stand

The hour of silence

In between

The talks.

Usually I am fine

With long stretches

Of quiet.

Today the cough

Had other ideas.

Now that I am quiet

At home

There is no problem.

The cough

Has a voice of its own.

I remember this

From innumerable

Sundays past.

Now that I am off

Sunday morning duty,

I realize

I*d forgotten.

Now I remember:

The cough

Has a voice of its own.

More accomplishments

Some days it is amazing what counts as an accomplishment.  In addition to a haircut, getting medication without needing to make a doctor visit, the kitchen being painted as I sit in my office, I have a quiet space to work and one thing to focus on.  After I eat lunch... of course.  All of these count as accomplishments.  

The children have left.

The hair is cut.

The office door is closed.

There is space to do

What needs to be done.

Now to determine

What comes next.

I think lunch

Is a good idea.

When I get home

The kitchen will be painted

A new color.

The medicine awaits me

At the pharmacy.

I said magic words to the nurse

Over the phone:

No fever,

No sore throat,

Productive cough;

Therefore no need

To make an office visit.

This counts as an accomplishment

For today.

One of many.

St. Nicholas

I got a text two days ago, all in caps, ST. NICHOLAS DAY IS IN TWO DAYS.  It is wonderful to be cared for, with advance notice even.  St. Nicholas actually found his way into this house under renovation, and didn*t even require the usual shoes.  He knows, around here, it is different every year.  St. Nicholas knows how to go with the flow.

St. Nicholas arrived early

Last night.

He tripped over renovation obstacles,

Found the orange juice

In the living room refrigerator.

St. Nicholas

Sneaked up the crowded stairs.

He did not find any shoes

At the door.

The shoes are strewn

In the family room.

St. Nicholas made do this year

With a paper box

From Ten Thousand Villages.

He angled it against the door,

A box,

A few chocolate coins.

Every year St. Nicholas arrives

As he wills.

Every year it is different

And the same.

Container

Every time I enter my office, I am reminded:  here is a container for peace and quiet.  Rather amazing, this.  Stunning, really... 

My office holds quiet,

Even with children outside the door

Most mornings,

The office holds quiet

Inside,

Contains peace and quiet

Inside.

I breathe the quiet.

I am reminded

Here there is space

For almost anything

To happen.

Even quiet.