Last Sunday was the fourth Sunday of Advent.
Traditionally our church cancels Sunday School on the fourth Sunday of Advent in order to have carry in breakfast together.
With covid, breakfast together in person isn't an option, so we had a Zoom breakfast together in all our separate homes. I'd made Cranberry Scones, and Prairy Winter Blend coffee blended by The Roasterie.
I wanted to make church an occasion, like it was before covid, so I dressed in the clothes I like to wear at Christmas. I even wore earrings and a little make up. That was challenging because it has been so long since I've worn either that I couldn't remember where I kept them! But I managed to find them, and took a pic for proof.
I also wanted the room where we zoom to be Christmassy, so I moved the Advent candles and the Nativity set to the dining room where we sit at the computer.
It was a good day. Good to see faces I haven't seen in a long while.
Later we met with our small group for disc golf and conversation. Again, it was good. Good to spend the afternoon walking and talking outdoors distantly (and masked) with friends. Good to explore what faith means in the individual contexts of our lives together.
I think each of us shared ways the uncomfortable emotions surrounding our current circumstances were part of the process of moving into better understandings, more truth. While we are in those emotions, like anger, or denial, or fear, all we want is to be out of them. But the way out seems to be through. I wonder if there will be a day when I can feel those intense emotions and welcome them as a sign of moving forward.
*****
Today was the rare alignment of Saturn and Jupiter. I'd planned to watch at sunset, but spent the daytime planning and preparing for our version of covid Christmas. We will do that tomorrow evening with the kids who are in town. (We will have a larger Zoom celebration later this month, which we are looking forward to.) It is supposed to be unseasonably warm this week, which is what makes it possible to be together. We will eat in small family groups, separated enough for safety, in the barn.
While I was still working in the house on some food prep, my sister-in-law called to let me know about an asterisk of jet contrails in the sky, nearly above us. How funny to see this on the morning before the planets align.
I was going to decorate the barn in the afternoon, but realized there were errands in town that had deadlines, so I didn't get out to the barn before it was time for sunset and the big sky event. We went outside to see, and enjoyed the changing colors of the sunset as we waited for stars to appear.
When I glanced down at Fritz, I saw how the colors of the sunset were reflected on his coat.
We watched for the planets to appear. We could already see stars straight above us and to the east, but in the southwest, all I could see was what I thought was an airplane. There was a bright light with a tiny light just a little to the side that I assumed was a tail light. But the airplane did not move toward us or away from us, and we recognized we were seeing the planets.
I'm sure we will see a lot of better pictures than what my phone could get, but this is what I have.
It was quiet. Well, mostly quiet except for cars driving by. But with the wind nearly calm and the changing of the sky from sunlight to moonlight, time seemed to hold still. It reminded me of last night after we got home from small group.
When we got home from small group, I was ready for some quiet alone time. Chuck invited me for a walk at sunset, which is our custom, but I declined, ready to just be alone for a bit after a busy day. He was only gone for a short while when he called my cell phone. "The sunset is crazy beautiful. The colors in the clouds all around is unreal. Do you want to come see?"
I sighed. Do I? I pulled on my shoes and headed out, mixed feelings already churning. What had I learned in small group? I'd quickly forgotten. Stepping out the door and moving down the lane past the trees, I saw Chuck was right, only there aren't words adequate to describe the beauty of clouds and colors as they were last night. I'd chosen not to bring my phone, and I was glad. Every moment it was different. Chuck was quite a ways farther down the road, so I was alone with the colors of the sunset and my ambivalent feelings about not getting time alone. Writing about it now, it's not lost on me that I was alone and wasting that alone time being frustrated about not getting time alone. When he reached me, Chuck stood for a while and then observed how quiet I was.
I told him, "Yeah, it's like...God says, 'come see this sunset I'm making' and I say 'no, I think I want to be alone now?' But there is no other time I can see this. I have to see it now. And it's so beautiful. And...I still need some time alone..."
I did get some solitude later. And the wonderful sunset yesterday, along with the mixed feelings of awe and frustration, was good preparation for today. I was ready. I could be still and enjoy this less spectacular but still pretty great sunset, and the appearance of Saturn and Jupiter, bright in the sky, watching alone with Chuck and Fritz, but aware of a connection with all the other hopeful star gazers in the world.
Comments