"A Heap of Love"

In 1989, I gave my four remaining great aunts spiral notebooks, pens and a list of questions.  I wanted to know of their childhood years, their parents and their grandparents.  Please tell me what they were like. What did their home look like? Walk me through it, please.  What were their parents’ favorite Scriptures and hymns (and theirs as well).  I asked about their Christmas memories at ‘the homeplace’ out in the country.  It has been years since I read what my great aunts wrote.  Early this morning, by the light of the Christmas tree, I curled up on the sofa and read my Aunt Cecile’s memories of Christmas.  All of my great aunts have now passed away but in the scribbled words found in a notebook from someone who grew up with so very little, I received what I most needed to receive this morning … a reminder that LOVE is more important than anything else in this world.

 (Aunt Cecile’s words) …

 

"You should have seen our decorations.  Garland and Espie and I (and at times Beulah, your grandmommy) would go to the woods and hunt running cedar that could be draped over our windows and on our pretty tree we’d find.  Mother would pop and string popcorn and drape it all over the tree.  We used holiday pieces off of trees that had red berries on them.  We would try and help Mother place all of this where it would look the prettiest.  There was plenty of room for presents under our tree but we did not find many there.  Maybe some parched peanuts, some molasses candy that she would wrap and put in the bag with the peanuts.  Just something like that.  No gifts at all.  But with all of that effort there was A HEAP OF LOVE."

(Back to me … I will take some parched peanuts, some molasses candy and A HEAP OF LOVE any day)

 

 

"A Bleak Midwinter Day in Advent"

 

(The day after the great tragedy at Shady Hook Elementary School in Newtown, CT)

 

On this day, when we all are grieving with grieving parents and holding confused, scared and saddened children in our prayers ... when we lament and cry out “How long, O Lord” .... when we we seek answers to such violence in this world, we hear words that God came (and comes) for such days as yesterday, for mornings such as this, for us all. Thanks to my friend, Thom Shuman, for hearing the whispers of God and for putting these God-given words together for us. Yes, in a bleak midwinter day in Advent, God comes.          anna

 

Lord, you have been our dwelling place in all generations.  Before the mountains were brought forth, or ever you had formed the earth and the world, from everlasting to everlasting you are God. (Psalm 90:1-2)

Once again, we are reminded about the meaning of this bleak midwinter we call Advent. For God did not come to create a greeting card industry, nor so we could string lights on houses and trees. God did not become one of us so we might have office parties and give people things they don't really need. God was not born so songs could be written and sermons preached.

God came for such mornings as this, after the long night of anguished tossing and turning, with visions of horror dancing in our heads. God came to walk with us as we wander the streets of our hearts asking, 'how? why? when?'

God came to huddle with terrified children in closets where school supplies are stored, and to give teachers the strength not to show their worst fears. God came to cradle the wounded and the dying, so they would know they were not abandoned in that loneliest of moments.

God came to give the first responders the courage to walk into the unspeakable, willing to put themselves between danger and little children. God came to gather the parents and grandparents up into the divine lap of comfort and hope, even as their arms would no longer be able to embrace their child. God came to have that most compassionate heart broken as many times as ours are, to weep with us even when we have run out of tears, to stand next to us with the same look of horror and disbelief.

God came for mornings such as this, with the same haggard face, with the same questions, with the same anger, with the same sense of loss and hopelessness, but with deep wells of grace from which we can drink, with compassion which will never end, with comforting arms which will not grow weary, with hope which stretches from everlasting to everlasting.

God came, and is still with us.

© 2012 Thom M. Shuman

Thom

Thom M. Shuman
Interim Pastor
Immanuel Presbyterian Church, Cincinnati, OH
Associate Member, Iona Communitywww.lectionaryliturgies.blogspot.com
www.occasionalsightings.blogspot.com
www.prayersfortoday.blogspot.com

'Scripture is like a river,
broad and deep,
shallow enough here
for the lamb to go wading,
but deep enough there
for the elephant to swim.'
- - Gregory the Great (540-604)

"The Lamb in the Creche"

It was a conversation
overheard.
It wasn’t eavesdropping …
not really.

“Isn’t our church lovely,
decorated so beautifully
for Christmas?”
“Yes, it is.
And aren’t we glad
that the three-legged lamb
is no longer
in the creche’ in the narthex?
Aren’t we glad
that it has been retired?”

Tears came to my eyes
in my eavesdropping.
Isn’t it for those of us
who are lame in some way …
who are pushed back
as ‘imperfect’,
who limp to the manger,
weary in body
and spirit,
who hobble toward Bethlehem
heavy-laden with
injuries inflicted
by others …
Isn’t it for those of us
‘three-legged lambs’
that the Christ-child came?

I begged …
“Put the little lamb back.”

©2012 anna murdock