At a certain point, the suspense of counting down the days till Christmas was eased with the introduction of little chocolate treats behind each window. That was, it turns out, the top of a very slippery slope.
So, since it’s about halfway through Advent, I think it’s time for me to be less busy and a little bit more patient; to ponder a bit more and struggle a lot less, to look for God in unexpected times and places instead of either shooting up arrow prayers expecting God to take care of them and then rushing off to do something else.
I have seen the work that is required to turn a sword into a plowshare – the brute force and heat required to re-craft a spear-head into a pruning hook. But it can be done. Weapons can be re-made. The question Advent asks is this: “What tools of war in your life – in my life – need to be heated in the forge of prayer and then hammered on the anvil of determination- re-made into tools for peace?”
Being in a monastery during Advent was like being inside a cozy New England Inn during a terrible nor’easter – a terrible, loud, windy, snowy storm. Sitting by a fire with spiced, hot wine during a gale-force-winds-storm is how it felt to sing and pray by candle-light in a habit while the world around us rushed by
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