Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Dearest God,

Now that the leaves are nearly gone, I can see through the branches. The nothingness of the trees tell me more than when the trees are full. I can see every branch and twig. I see how the limbs spread outward from the trunk. There is something most beautiful about a bare tree. Nothing is hidden.

In the spiritual life sometimes I hide behind my own gifts and talents. While these are visible, it is difficult to see me in the bare. Yet, the time comes when the hidden is made visible. Am I who I appear to be without my gifts visible?

This mystical season is my favorite time because I spiritually explore. In the quiet silence of winter I ponder and reflect your hidden treasures. I listen and see more. I find myself in a wondrous season of discovery. I do it alone mostly. I like the quiet. I don't need the noise of electronics to keep my mind content. I want to know what lay hidden. What do you have to say to me? I wonder in my own mind. I wander in the spirit during this season.

I like pondering the time leading up to the birth of your son. How was the air, the ground, the animals, the sacred spirit during those months when Mary was pregnant with the Savior? Was she aglow like most pregnant mothers but with more aura? Could people tell something was different? Was there an expectancy even among those who knew nothing about what had happened with the angel? What was it like?

But also, what about these days leading up to the celebration of the birth? Are they different? Is there an expectancy of humans and angels? For me there most certainly is. I experience it every year. Even when I am weary and worn, overworked or overwhelmed there is still something. A heightened consciousness of glory. A sense that greatness is in the air. An inner joy not connected to all my outer activities. My spirit seems to be highly sensitive to the slightest movement of your spirit around me. I can't explain it.

It is Advent. I am trying to prepare my heart for your coming.

Thank you
for the barrenness,
for the baring
of the soul,
for the cold
and the quiet.
Thank you
for the
let down
of the visible
so the invisible
can be made known.
Thank you,
O Most High God.
Thank you
for prickling
my soul
in Advent.
I love it
and I love you.

Love, Andrea