Well --I guess there are some things worse... there we are. But I am glad I brought it in. I wouldn't want to be trying to clean up that mess today.
And this morning, as the sun rises, and Mr. Witty and Paeha snooze after their morning cookies and we finish up our coffee in front of the heat of the fire place, I find myself 'pondering'....
early 14c., "to estimate the worth of, to appraise," from O.Fr. ponderare "to weigh, poise," from L. ponderare "to ponder, to consider," lit. "to weigh," from pondus (gen. ponderis) "weigh" (see pound (n.1)). Meaning "to weigh a matter mentally" is attested from late 14c.
It's the last Sunday of the Church year.... The long endings begin.
I want to throw the Church calendar out the window, and begin Christmas now --not the throngs in the stores and long lines --oh God no, I HATE that mess... I consider it pornographic... but I want to put up cheap tinsel and sing the songs, even learn one in Lakota, and make the ginger cooky recipe our brother D sent us last year...
I wonder if the WalMart workers in Pierre or Rapid are striking today... or if they are grateful for the slave-wages and no benefit work conditions they get... and if they are striking, I want to fix hot chocolate and hot coffee and go show them our support... and I never, ever want to shop there again....
I wonder about my sisters and brother. They are all settled up and down the I-5 corridor, from Sacramento to Portland, OR... and me, the wild card.... but not so wild as I once was....
I was born with an older brother, but he struggled mightily the last few decades, and made a decision, and now I am blessed with three older sisters. When I confessed to her, saying, 'I will miss my older brother --I have loved you so much,' she said, 'I am still here.' And I prepare my heart for the warrior sister I have always dreamed of having. She will probably be the wisest of all of us.
I am distracted by the list in my head of things I am trying to remember to do today. This, that and the other thing. The phone calls I need to make. Then the letters I must write. One of the things on my list is to mess with a hat pattern --so that I can keep ears warm and all that. I have already spoken with one of those who stepped up in my absence and went to the hospital on Monday to minister to the family of T, 12 years old and dead. They did a wonderful job in such difficult circumstances. I must follow through with the other.
I am amazed that the temperature has dropped outside even though the sun has come up --it is 8 (F) degrees now...
And it should be rain and snow mix for the funeral on Monday. Yuck.
And a frequent theme in ponderings here --life itself. And sister death. All the clichés --death is a part of life... NO. Death is the end of life. As we know it. Full stop. They've gone to a better place.... Oh HELL NO. That totally trashes this place --God's own creation that God called GOOD and loves --God's own blood given for us --not for some other place, but for life here and now. And if we catch on we can participate in the eternal life of God, here and now. Eternal life is not reserved for some later day --it is given to us, now....
Grandmere Mimi posted this in the comments yesterday:
Though the fig tree does not blossom,Y.E.S. And yes. Thank you Grandmere. And even when we have no strength left and our feet are bound in muck, and we are absolved of hope --God is still our strength, our life, our way....
and no fruit is on the vines;
though the produce of the olive fails
and the fields yield no food;
though the flock is cut off from the fold
and there is no herd in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the Lord;
I will exult in the God of my salvation.
God, the Lord, is my strength;
he makes my feet like the feet of a deer,
and makes me tread upon the heights. (Habakkuk 3:17-20)
At prayer this morning (Luke 18:1-8)
Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart.
He said, “In a certain city there was a judge who neither feared God nor had respect for people. In that city there was a widow who kept coming to him and saying, ‘Grant me justice against my opponent.’
For a while he refused; but later he said to himself, ‘Though I have no fear of God and no respect for anyone, yet because this widow keeps bothering me, I will grant her justice, so that she may not wear me out by continually coming.’”
And the Lord said, “Listen to what the unjust judge says. And will not God grant justice to his chosen ones who cry to him day and night? Will he delay long in helping them? I tell you, he will quickly grant justice to them. And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?”
It is not to some other place the Son of Man comes --it is this place, this earth. This life.
I will throw the calendar out the door. It is time to celebrate and make known The Incarnation. And my heart is glad.
Hey God, it's margaret. Knock, knock. Who's there? it's margaret. margaret who? The one who was grateful yesterday when, during grace, I asked everyone at the table what they were thankful for, and Deacon said she was thankful to be a child of God, because I wished I had said that too. Knock, knock. Who's there? it's margaret. margaret who? The one who keeps knocking. Knock, knock. Who's there? it's margaret. margaret who? I think you created me --you tell me. Knock, knock. Who's there? It is thyself.
Oooooo --the jokes we can play on God because of the Incarnation. heheheheeeee.