Advent 22

This afternoon, my beloved forwarded an email from his chaplain. It's true - there are two or three places left in this world that believe spiritual care for the troops is worthwhile. In this case, the chaplain is a guy I really like, formerly a pastor with a story full of hurt and disappointment and faith and do-overs. He works on the floor with all those other people and I don't think he's too chaplain-y most days.

But today he sat down and wrote a letter to his co-workers. A letter that reminded each of them that this season, full though it may be with icky bits, demands a bit of thoughtfulness maybe. He reminded them that the offer this Advent is hope, peace, joy and love. That all the insanity of the season has at its root a shared hunger for those things and a shared desire to somehow provide them: "Advent is the anticipation of these ingredients being totally full in each of our hearts and in all the people we care about." 

I cried a bit.


Mostly because this afternoon, I ran out of hope. I couldn't find peace anywhere and joy seemed long gone. Happily love was lingering in the living room, but that seemed accidental.

For those in the know, it will not be a surprise that SJ's workplace is about this last place any of us should expect The Light to show up, least of all for me. But alas, from that most unexpected place - in the Bethlehem of our family's world - light shone.

I can't say more about this without being maudlin and over-stating things - I'm in that kind of mood. So I will let the chaplain end it for us. May these words bless you as they blessed me:

May Hope fill your thoughts

May Peace form your actions

May Joy be in your conversations and

May Love enrich everything you see

(But seriously! My husband received these words from someone he works with at his [holy-fuck-has-it-been-bad-there] job! I am astounded. This makes me believe God may love me more than just about anything else this week. Or maybe even year. I am floored.)