Advent Reflections from Isaiah 25 and Matthew 15

A lavish feast

or simple bread and fish

both are offered at His table

and offered to all

Thank you for the rich meat and wine

which is mine from time to time

and more often the fish and bread

that daily grace my table

I long for the banquet yet to come

spread for all tribes and nations;

I even enjoy it on occasions now

when my eyes are opened to see.

And the simple table

spread from day-to-day

is the communion of love

shared with friend and family.

-Nancy Perkins, 11/30/11

A Winter Hymn

Last year I came across this song in a hymnal I found in the lodge my extended family was staying at in the Poconos. It really touched me, because winter is a difficult time for me. The darkness and cold, past losses and disappointments, and sadness tend to make my heart heavy and spirit sag. The words in this song encouraged me to find the beauty of winter and treasure it as God's love in the cold.

'Tis Winter Now

'Tis winter now; the fallen snow
Has left the heavens all coldly clear;
Through leafless boughs the sharp winds blow,
And all the earth lies dead and drear.

And yet God's love is not withdrawn
His life within the keen air breathes
His beauty paints the crimson dawn,
And clothes the boughs with glittering wreaths.

And though abroad the sharp winds blow
And skies are chill, and frosts are keen
Home closer draws her circle now
And warmer glows her light within.

O God who giv'st the winter's cold
As well as summer's joyous rays;
Us warmly in Thy love enfold,
And keep us through life's wintry days. Amen

Lyrics by Samuel Longfellow, 1864

Thanksgiving

This morning as I move around my kitchen, preparing cornbread dressing for our extended family meal, I am moved with remembrances of Thanksgivings past and how they have been woven into the fabric of who I am today. Not only the shared recipes, but the shared experiences and emotional ties and bonds that have followed me through the years--to this day, in a very different place and time. While I prepare and taste my cornbread dressing, I think of Gloria. How she lovingly made this dish each Thanksgiving, passed the recipe to me when we moved away from Antioch, and then, leaving us with fond memories, she joined Spencer in heaven.

Sometimes family came and joined us at Antioch, and we added another table to the already over-sized one. Ron and Elena and sometimes Maggie, brought an added dimension of thanksgiving to my heart as they fellowshipped with my Antioch family.

Now here we are, fifteen years and fifteen Thanksgivings later, celebrating a day of love and grace, and yes, thankfulness for family and friends and abundance of food.

And I am thankful-

- Thankful for my children. For their health and their unfolding journeys, of which I am sometimes a part, but often merely an encourager and listener and observer. They bring me great joy and I am proud of who they are becoming.

- Thankful for my family and friends. Thankful for our friendships and spiritual connectedness. For the encouragement and insights we share and the loving embraces and open invitations, despite varied life experiences and thought. Thankful for how they minister and come to my aid, making the rough places plane. God is watching and notes your generosity and kindness shown to me and my children.

- Thankful for my home and warmth and work and music and books and good food.

Most of all, thankful to my very loving Father who forgives my sins and embraces me with extravagant and lavish love. Who takes my hand each ordinary day, gives me grace and hope, and promises to never leave me.

I cannot ask for more this Thanksgiving Day.

Empty Nest?!?

Where did that term come from? It conjures up a picture of a confused mother bird arriving back at her next, only to find that her babies are gone.

Well, regardless of where the term originates, I’m in it—the empty nest, I mean. Yesterday my son moved to Philadelphia into his own apartment. It’s a move he’s been looking forward to for months. I never planned on staying in Lancaster, he has reminded me, as plans moved forward in his apartment and job search in Philadelphia. My daughters left earlier in the Fall. One moved to Jackson, Mississippi to attend college, and the youngest started college in Philadelphia.

I woke up with a sort of expectation this morning. What will it be like to have obligation to no one but myself? I chatted with my neighbors, went to market, stopped in for a few minutes at the homes of family, and went by the local Wine and Spirits shop for some boxes. I spent most of the day sorting my books: putting some into boxes for possible delivery to Goodwill, carrying some upstairs to bookcases on the third floor, and re-arranging my favorites on the bookshelves in my living room. I finished a puzzle I’ve been working of for more than a week, and watched Top Chef on my laptop.

Throughout the afternoon and evening I’ve been listening to music that I have in a folder called Favs on Itunes. Many of the songs are ones my children have shared with me, and I smiled as I sang along.

Now it’s almost nine o’clock, and I’m feeling a little sad. Maybe it’s the haunting tunes of Gabriel’s Oboe playing as I type. Maybe it’s because I’m talking to my cat, Tiger, and he’s not interested. I’m sure it’s partly that I never expected to come to this time of my life alone. And, yes, it’s a lot because I miss my children.

But here’s the reality. I do not feel abandoned or confused. I did not wish for them to stay with me forever. They are amazing young people, and they are each experiencing the next phase of their lives, just as I am. And they are thriving. On a recent visit, my daughter Jubilee (the one in Jackson) hesitantly confided that she was ready to go back to her home—her apartment and college friends. I assured her that I am so glad that she is settled and content in her place in Jackson.  April, my youngest, while she is excited to see me when visiting, is rising to the challenge of finding her way as a freshman on a huge university campus. I love it here, Mom.

And me? Well, I’m also cautiously excited to move into this next period of my life. While it will be quieter, probably slower, most certainly cheaper, I am looking forward to what each day will bring. I think I’ll start going to the gym after work—no need to hurry home. I’m going to read—lots! Scrabble on my computer—I put the Scrabble board away with the other board games in the basement. And I’m going to eat soup—I love soup in the winter.

The nest may be emptier, but mother bird still lives here.