Treasuring & Pondering

As the days grow increasingly shorter until the longest night of the year, many of our days are fuller than usual with holiday celebrations, Christmas concerts or plays, buying gifts for those we love, and lots of feasting on cookies and treats that show up around this time of year. All of which are good things to do.

And, if we let ourselves receive it, the shorter days offer a chance to simplify just a little. To rest and savor and wonder more. In All Creation Waits, Gayle Boss writes,  

“In December the dark and cold deepen, and our rational minds dismiss it as nothing. We know that on December 21, the winter solstice, the sun will begin its return to our sky. But our animal bodies react with dis-ease. The light-life-is going. Some of us sink into a seasonal depression. Some of us cope by seizing distractions the marketplace gleefully offers: shopping, parties, more shopping…we throw a party to mark the end of another year, sometimes with glad gratitude, often as incantation for a better year to come.”

I have come to love the stories of Advent. I love Zechariah’s questions, so like Abraham’s when he received a heavenly visitor arriving with an earlier promise of a surprising birth. I love Gabriel’s response, hearing more playfulness than I did before and perhaps even an offering of opportunity for Zechariah to learn from his wife and cousin’s examples of trust in his months of quiet he wouldn’t have chosen. I love how the shepherds were the ones who received the news of a baby king. I love Simeon and Anna’s joy in the temple when they met the promised child. My heart pangs in a new way when I hear Simeon’s words that a sword will also pierce Mary’s soul. Mothers grieve when their children hurt, and the ache of a lost child is too much to bear alone. Which Jesus knew and honored from the cross when he told John to take Mary as his adopted mom ever after. Tradition tells us that Mary lived with John from that day forward.

I love the story of Mary. I love that she was anything but a weak or passive vessel, simply glad to go along with whatever she was told when Gabriel arrived with shocking news. In the spirit of slowing down, I want to offer a simple practice of reflecting on that moment a bit. Maybe you’ll engage it now as you sip morning coffee or evening tea. Or maybe you’ll find yourself drawn to return to it later, when you’ve got a few moments of stillness that want to be filled with something other than cleaning the kitchen, returning emails, or streaming a show. This is also a practice you could engage with a community group, friends, or your family.  

Here's the practice: First, read through the story of Mary meeting Gabriel included below. What do you notice?

 “In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her” (Luke 1:26-38).

Then, with those words echoing in your mind, spend some time with a depiction of Gabriel on his way to Mary. The art is the work of Ukrainian artist Ivanka Demchuk. (find it here).

Ivanka Demchuk’s “Annunciation”

First, take in the image as a whole. What stands out immediately? Where are your eyes drawn? Is there any area you find you don’t want to look at? Take several deep breaths as you consider.

Next, consider what the Spirit might be whispering to you through this image. What does the Holy One want to offer that is for you in particular today? Take your time.

Then, let yourself ponder what you want to say back to God about what you’re sensing. What do you know? What questions do you have? What do you need to ask for? Don’t be in a hurry with these things.

Last, simply savor all you’ve noticed, letting it sink in deeper and allowing your gaze and your attention to soften and receive. If you’re doing this practice alone, you might write a few things down you want to remember. If you’re with others, talk about what you noticed and what you still wonder.

 If you’d like, you can read more about Mary’s courageous, inquisitive faith in Hopeful Lament (pages 75-77).

I’d love to hear what is giving you life in this beautiful, difficult, and complicated season. Email me at hello@terramcdaniel.com if you have time to share!

With care,
Terra

PS. The audio recording of Hopeful Lament is available for preorder and will release on December 26th. I bet there’s someone on your Christmas list who would find it a helpful and timely gift. Or maybe you want to treat yourself! Find a copy for you and a friend here!

What I’m listening to: I just finished the audiobook for How Far the Promised Land by Esau McCaulley. It was profound and moving and well worth your time. When he posted on Facebook about a milestone for the book, I commented: “I finished the audiobook yesterday and listened to the final chapter twice. I lost my father unexpectedly last week and while our experiences are very different, I am a southerner who had a hard and complicated relationship with my father. Your words resonated profoundly. Thank you for a guide toward grace and forgiveness and finding goodness where it exists. I love the way you wove biblical stories together in your eulogy for him.”

I’m continuing to make my way back through U2’s back catalog. “Gloria” remains a twin and me favorite. They start dancing every single time it plays and it’s wonderful. They don’t like “40” or “Magnificent” as much and that’s ok. I’m also giving Achtung Baby a few extra listens lately. There are a few songs I don’t love but there are several (“Acrobat,” “Zoo Station,” and “Mysterious Ways”) that are hitting differently today than they did when Torey was a year old. 

I still love this Advent playlist.

And my favorite Christmas album remains this one.

What I’m reading: This week, the twins and I read the picture book God’s Holy Darkness. I love this book for Advent and really any time of year. It’s about how God shows God’s love through darkness and night in the stories of Abraham (‘look at the stars and try to count them’), at the Passover in Egypt, when Samuel heard God’s call in the night, when Solomon said at the temple’s completion ‘the Lord dwells in thick darkness,’ when angels appeared to shepherds in the night announcing the Messiah, when the Jesus gathered with his disciples for a holy Supper, and so on. Most pages include an easy-to-understand verse from the story it’s referencing.

The illustrations are an interesting mix of abstract acrylic, collage, and evocative sketches. Sutton’s and my favorite pages were the ones in which angels appeared to shepherds in the dark. The rolling hills reveal the magi on their way on one end and the holy family on the other. Angels and God’s Spirit peak in from the top corners. The image is from the point of view of the shepherds who take in this wide-angle view amid an indigo sky filled with golden stars. Sutton gave both pages two kisses each and kept turning back to look at them again.

All Creation Waits (quoted above) is a lovely book to be savored alone or shared with family that follows the days of Advent up to Christmas Day. Each day’s reading includes a quote (from the likes of Hildegard of Bingen, Thomas Merton, and Mary Oliver), a gorgeous pen and ink illustration, and a story about how the animal pictured survives and thrives in the cold and dark of winter. The readings are short—it would take around five minutes to read each aloud. I got this book last year but this is my first Advent to really get to savor it. My favorite so far is Advent Day 3 about the black bear. Am I the only one who didn’t know bear cubs are born while their mothers hibernate?!

I leave you with an Advent blessing from Circle of Grace:

First let us say
a blessing
upon all who have
entered here before
us

You can see the sign
of their passage
by the worn place
where their hand rested
on the doorframe
as they walked through,
the smooth sill
of the threshold
where they crossed.

Press your ear
to the door
for a moment before
you enter,

and you will hear
their voices murmuring
words you cannot quite make out
but know
are full of welcome

On the other side,
these ones who wait—
for you,
if you do not
know by now—
understand what
a blessing can do:

how it appears like
nothing you expected;

how it arrives as
visitor,
outrageous invitation,
child;

how it takes the form
of angel
or dream;

how it comes
in words like
How can this be?
And
Lifted up the lowly;
how it sounds like
in the wilderness
prepare the way.

Those who wait
for you know
how the mark of
a true blessing
is that it will take you
where you did not
think to go.

Once through this door,
there will be more:
more doors,
more blessings,
more who watch and
wait for you.

But here
at this door of
beginning,
the blessing cannot
be said without you.

So lay your palm
against the frame
that those before you
touched.

Place your feet
where others paused
in this entryway.

Say the thing that
you most need,
and the door will
open wide.

And by this word
the door is blessed,
and by this word
the blessing is begun
from which,
door by door,
all the rest
will come.

-Jan Richardson, “Blessing the Door”

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