Advent | A Lament
by Elouise
Eyes ache
Ears miss birdsong
Body tires of
Indoor exercise
Confining
Repetitive
Winter
Tell me, Winter
Why so sparse
So barren
Even potted plants
Grow tiresome
Droop
Fade
I want to sleep
But cannot
What then of night
Does it offer
Solace
Interest
Beauty
Stars and moon hide
Behind thick clouds
Cold air chills bones
Knocks on joints
Drives healing moisture
From hands
Psalmists lament
So do I
I lament the absence of
Spring Summer and Fall
The absence of Your
visible unmerited blessings
Is it the weather?
Heavy
Body mind and spirit
Empty
Joyless
Relieved only
By music that
Moves me
From this
Dreary sameness
* * *
If the glory of Advent is God’s response to our deep distress, I’m in deep distress. We careen along a path toward who-knows-what. I see reminders of this when I read or listen to the news. Other ages had their share of unrelenting distress headlines. This isn’t new. It is, however, painfully visible.
All the more reason to stay centered in Advent. Ironically, Advent comes “in the bleak mid-winter,” not in the glorious burst of spring. I’m glad it comes in bleak mid-winter. In spring I’m too full of myself and my own intoxication with nature to appreciate what happened at Christmas.
The coming of Messiah wasn’t part of the cycle of nature. It was a break-in moment, heart-stopping and threatening. Not sweet and docile, like a shrinking violet.
I’m looking for a break-in. How about you?
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 18 December 2015
Photo credit: David Byrne at http://www.85mm.co.uk
“Bleak Winter,” Scotland
Oh, yeah, I know how it can be. I like the cold now, though. It feels strong and curative and uncompromising. After all, why should the world always be agreeable to us? There is hidden healing in the deep cold, in the bleakness, that strengthens us for the next steps.
Rest, and be refreshed. Be grateful for warm slippers and watertight roofs. Hug yourself. And know that there are lots of people who love you, me included. Thanks for all your posts, which have informed and delighted me this year.
(((XXX)))
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Thank you, Fran. I’m taking your comments to heart–and still hoping for that Christmas break-in of peace and joy! I thought it was interesting that my search for a ‘bleak winter’ image came up with a photo of Scotland! To your warm slippers and watertight roofs I’m add my fleece-lined jeans and fleece flap-over-my-ears-and-around-the-back-of-my-neck cozy visor hat! I think you have to see the hat to appreciate it!
Thanks for all the love. I feel it and deeply appreciate each comment, smile and hug that comes sailing my way. I hope you and your family have a most wonderful Christmas week.
Elouise
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Beautiful rendering of the season (absent Christmas, as you note); I wonder whether the bleakness of the weather is what allows our laments over other matters to surface. As you’ve said, the beauty of spring is intoxicating & may push those concerns to the back burner. That’s perhaps not all bad! I lament as well. Ironically, my readings yesterday had me in Psalm 128 (may you live to see your children’s children), only to read later the blog of a 50s-something friend with Stage IV pancreatic cancer whose recent tests showed additional lesions… I have learned from her that lament is an activity to undertake, but not a place to take up residence. Sometimes, I do not have that strength of faith!
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Yes, absent Christmas. I like your wondering about the way the weather invites us into certain spaces in our lives. And conversely, invites us out of them! I also appreciate the distinction your friend makes between “lament as an activity to undertake, but not a place to take up residence.” It’s a wonderful permission to grieve intentionally, as part of our spiritual formation. I wonder. Could grief be a fruit of the Spirit of God? God laments and grieves over and over in Hebrew Scripture. I’m going to think on this one further….Thanks for the thought-provoking comment.
Elouise
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