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Wednesday Wanderings

A little journey through this topsy-turvy journey of joys and sorrows and hopes and dreams with plenty of grace from God along the way.

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The Advent wreath tends to get lost in the shuffle (although, we could say Advent as a whole gets lost in the shuffle), amidst everything else that happens in a weekend worship, let alone our minds tend to focus on what’s coming later in December as opposed to these four Sundays leading up to that big day. For many mainline Protestant and Roman Catholic faith communities, we do our prayer, we light the needed candles, we sing a song and keep on moving. And then, soon enough, that collection of candles amidst a circular greenery will get tucked away in some closet, never to be thought of again for another 11 months or so. It tends to get lost in the shuffle (although, we could say much of our spirituality gets lost in the chaotic day-to-day living shuffle).

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I am ever mindful that my “wandering” through this faith, this church, this ministry, this God has been significantly easier than others. I have not encountered many roadblocks to serving in the role as a pastor, and am not on the receiving end of questioning legitimacy or the like, as many of my colleagues have faced in the past, and unfortunately, still do today, even in our fairly forward-thinking Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). So, I want to give space in recognition of The Rev. Elizabeth Platz, who 55 years ago, rattled our Lutheran part of the body of Christ for the better.

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And now, it’s here. For most, that means tomorrow is here: the holiday that often brings distant family and friends together around a table overflowing with food, in hopes that will inspire a fair share of giving-thanks. But for some in two states in the Midwest, at least, the couple days after tomorrow are fervently and anxiously drawing near (although hopefully they can still manage some giving-thanks): for what many have dubbed “The Game.”

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Since children have entered the picture, we haven’t ventured to Playhouse Square as much, but on a near-weekly basis, I sing through some Les Mis to warm up the voice on the car ride in before the chanting ensues on Sunday mornings. Part of the reason, I’m sure, is the entire storyline emerges from different pivotal moments in the history of France, a country I still hold dear because of my beloved high school French teacher. Another is all these entrancing songs that stick with me in the car and beyond.

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If only the world could be filled with the same joy and excitement and thrill over a child seeing the first trace of snow…what a world it could be. Granted, the first trace a couple days ago seemed to be rather miniscule in comparison to the seemingly doomsday prediction of the anticipated amount, but minor detail. The children don’t know about the intricacies of weather patterns and freeze points and lake effects. They don’t have to worry about ice-scrapers and shovels and salt and defrosts and brakes and other drivers on the road. They just see the result of natural science on the ground, and they’re overcome with joy and excitement and a thrill not just over the sight but of the potential play-filled possibilities…as long as their parental figures cave in. If only the world could even be slightly filled with that nearly holy combination…what a world it would be.