Vessels, Empty Space & Advent

Yesterday was a day filled with shadows and vessels. It is raining here in Seattle (no surprise there.) My living room is still filled with furniture from the basement and contractors go in and out of my house. A list sits patiently by my computer, but I did not want to go anywhere yesterday…no driving, no errands, no last minute Christmas duties. And so I stayed in for the day and made a collage. The topic: vessels. I asked myself “why vessels?” several times throughout the process.

What do vessels represent to me? Holding. A bowl. A womb. Cupped hands. A shell. A box. A gift. A decanter. The arms of God. Safety. Confinement. Cups & glasses. Crystal. Pottery. Earthenware. More questions: What am I trying to hold? What do I need to let go of? What does advent really mean?

Finally in the evening, I visited Back Road Journey and read these words:

“This gift (empty space) takes me down a path I may not have chosen otherwise: emptiness, brokenness, darkness, without-ness. The invitation is there, I have only to cross the threshold. And I am discovering that there are layers to this threshold, layers of emptiness and brokenness to live through. Perhaps this is what John the Baptist spoke of when he said, “Prepare the way.” What if prepare isn’t about pulling out all the Christmas boxes from the attic or basement in order to get the house just right or about baking up a storm but rather it’s about emptying, being without, getting rid of, all in order to make room? Could it be that it’s in the empty spaces and brokenness where there’s room for Emmanuel to be born?”

Something shifted in me as I read her words and I began to see the connection between vessels, empty space and advent. Preparing the way. Smoothing the vessel. Making room. Letting go. And this morning these words continued the journey. What edges need to be sheared away? Rough places chipped off to make space for God? For forgiveness and holiness. Grace & mercy. Filled up only to be emptied again and again. Opening the door to my own dark places. Seeing the images that still lie in shadow. There is much to consider in this time of waiting.

In closing, I will share one last thing (although another post is already brewing.) Here are words from Jan L. Richardson’s, Night Visions. They have been working on me for nearly a week since I read them. (Not surprisingly, they also were perfectly printed at the end of Redbarn’s post ☺ .) What places may still yearn to be hollowed out for you?

You hollow us out, God,
so that we may carry you,
and you endlessly fill us
only to be emptied again.

Make smooth our inward spaces
and sturdy,
that we may hold you
with less resistance
and bear you
with deeper grace.

collage by lucy

The Quiet Time

Wow! Sometimes God is just entirely too cool. For this post to make the most sense, you must first read, Monday Morning Gibberish. Literally moments after pushing the publish button, I picked up a little book called, God Calling. Here is today's reading:

"There may be many times when I reveal nothing, command nothing, give no guidance. But your path is clear, and your task, to grow daily more and more into the knowledge of Me. That this quiet time with Me will enable you to do.

I may ask you to sit silent before Me, and I may speak no word that you could write. All the same that waiting with Me will bring comfort and Peace. Only friends who understand and love each other can wait silent in each other's presence.

And it may be that I shall prove our friendship by asking you to wait in silence while I rest with you, assure of your Love and understanding. So wait, so love, so joy."

Like I said, "Sometimes God is just entirely too cool." Think I'll sit and wait awhile.

photo by lucy

Monday Morning Gibberish

Ever have those days where too much is rolling around in your brain and nothing coherent will pop out? Last Monday I was filled with excitement over the wonderful weekend spent away with my sister and her husband as well as the wonder of entering the season of advent. I had posts just waiting to fill the pages. And then, the floods came. So here it is Monday again and even more stories fill my brain, but nothing wants to materialize in any recognizable format other than gibberish.

The odd thing about today is that I am not particularly rushed. My schedule is reasonably clear for the day...the week even (and I hesitate to even write that with concern that a disaster may appear without notice...always a possibility), so I have time to write. I have journaled pages and pages already this morning. I have spent quiet time with centering prayer. I even lit my new candle from Zena Moon, "a candle for writing." I have done a little word study on my name(s): both given and nicknamed. The sun is shining. My dog has been fed. My daughter is at school & my husband at work. The house is quiet except for the sounds of the garbage trucks outside.

So, my friends, what you are reading here is a bit of a brain dump. It is with the hope that at some point in time I can write the words that really want to come. Those stubborn thoughts that swirl and twirl throughout my brain like a feather floating on the wind. I jump to grab them, but they slip through my fingers. Maybe I am trying too hard. Maybe there is too much to say. Maybe I just need to be still awhile longer. Maybe I just need to wait. Hmmm...isn't waiting what Advent is all about?

katrina photo from here

Waiting for Ruwach

I had a lightbulb moment today and found a new connection for the three words (waiting, breath & spirit) from my previous post. It occurred to me that while I have been pondering a new way of breath, God has been waiting for me to make the connection. I wonder how often that happens? I usually think that I am waiting for God, but today it feels a bit more mutual.

Something I had temporarily forgotten is that Breath and Spirit are both translations of the Hebrew word Ruwach (also translated as wind). In my "moment," I had the sense that I am being called to a new way to consider the Holy Spirit. I'm not exactly sure what it means but it feels really good and very freeing. It feels like new breath, a sweet wind blowing and the spirit of my heart lifting high. It feels whole, connected and embodied.

In my Awakening the Creative Spirit class a couple of weeks ago, I kept saying how whole and full I felt and the word "embodied" seemed very important. I did a word search and landed on this definition of embody--to provide a spirit with a physical form. This names the fullness I feel.

My dolphin studies also say when dolphin shows up it is time to breathe some new life into yourself. And, then today I ran across the tradition that the early Christians viewed dolphin as a symbol of salvation. Breath. Spirit. New life. Salvation. Coincidence or new possibilites to consider? How will I choose to view Spirit--inside a box or wide open in the world?

(A little aside here--there was a dolphin prominently featured in the Seattle Times this week AND my friends in Mexico called to tell me some wonderful dolphin stories...so my dolphin totem continues to inspire.)

One final thought (for now) is that almost three years ago, I received what I believe was an amazing prophecy and these words have been stirring within me recently:

Feel the wind. The wind blows hard. The wind is blowing our family in a new direction. Guide the sails through Me.

A new way to breathe-- To experience the wind-- To feel the Spirit?

The Simplicity of Paradox

How do simple words contain such complex meaning? My last two posts (unplanned, by the way) have been entirely about the paradox of simplicity. A twenty-five word post reveals both the simplicity and complexity involved in actually living out the “simple” words. In another post, an “ordinary” day moves into the extraordinary. Simple? Yes. And, there is absolutely nothing simple at all about it. Paradox. Small things becoming larger than life. Ground, cold and barren, suddenly sprouting new life. Sun shining brighter than normal.

This is a simple post about the complexity that is percolating in my mind. Words of waiting, new breath and spirit permeate my waking and sleeping hours. I have thoughts and ideas about what they are telling me and just when I begin to write, another image appears and the idea morphs into a new one. So, for now, I will wait.

Will you consider waiting with me? I’d love to know what images these "simple" words (waiting, breath, spirit) stir in you.