Ist Days of Christmas in Bend

Being an Episcopal priest, I love that Christmas starts on Christmas Eve and lasts another twelve more days. I'm spending the second through sixth days with my family in Oregon. Getting to spend a Christmas Sunday with family is the best fourth day of Christmas I could have had. 

Christmas Sunday was my daughter-in-law's birthday,  and she requested Sue's eggs for breakfast--a favorite recipe of mine from a friend in New Mexico that got included in my daughter's second cookbook.  For those who are keeping track, it's yet another Sue's Eggs sighting as the recipe is shared around the globe. 

The grandboys spent Sunday morning before church playing on their new tables and chairs with the magic sand I'd given them for Christmas. Turns out it's much messier than advertised so vacuuming was part of clean up plus changing clothes a second time before going to church. 

Going to church as a family may be the very best gift ever for a grandma priest. Having someone else be completely in charge and then having the joy of sitting with my son and daughter in worship was a Feast of the Incarnation. 

I've spent the last two days playing with my preschool and toddler grandboys while Mom and Dad were at work. We had quite a snow storm and played in the snow this morning--very bundled up since it was 7 degrees. 

We've read a lot of books, cooked from

Austin's new cookbook, and made marshmallows. We've played with trucks and blocks and created endless art.  We've had lots of chats and had a slumber party while Mom and Dad went on a date.  The grandboys know how to make coffee in the Keurig so I've enjoyed my morning cups prepared with love by one grandboy or the other. 

I'm packing up tonight and full of joy as well as sadness. Today's SSJE word is incarnation. I've certainly started the Christmas season in the midst of the Incarnation:  with a not so ordinary family experiencing Love in the most extraordinarily quotidian way. 

2nd Day of Christmas in SFO

The words no one ever wants to hear. 

Your flight has been cancelled. 

About the time I should have been climbing into bed at my son's house in Bend, I was climbing into my bed at the Homewood Suites at San Francisco Airport. 

I'm on an early flight to Portland, and my son is driving over the mountains to pick me up. Thanks to United, I had a gourmet breakfast with my food vouchers. 

It's the second day of Christmas. How  will Jesus' love be incarnated today?  At least there was room for me at inn!

Pilgrimage continues elsewhere: Second Saturday in Advent

All packed and on the way to pilgrimage in Houston. 

Yesterday was filled with lasts. 

Last, for this trip, early morning fire and cinnamon toast. 

Last, for this trip, blue corn cheese enchiladas, this time shared with a dear friend, Sue, whose egg recipe is featured in my daughter's newest cookbook. 

 

Last hike, for this trip, in a path scattered with snow and ice. 

Home for a prayer ritual involving herbal tea and St. Hildegard from an Advent retreat that's been part of my daily pilgrimage. So very much better shared with a friend. 

Early morning drive to Albuquerque with a glorious sunrise. 

Last, for this trip, cappacinnos along the way. 

So very thankful for this pilgrimage. 

So very hopeful and curious about the pilgrimage ahead. 

Pilgrimage to Taos: Second Friday in Advent

My traveling friend has been fighting a cold, and had been quite a trooper.  We'd been waiting for her to feel well enough to hike and yesterday was the day. 

There are many amazing hikes along the Rio Grande Gorge, and the one she'd wanted us to do for two years was La Vista Verde Trail. It's a two and one half mile round trip trek that takes you back and forth along the Gorge. 

As is our custom, we began our day as our pokey selves. We started the day with morning devotions and quiet, cinnamon toast before a fire, and Advent card making. Then of course we needed to eat lunch before our hike (yet another plate of blue corn cheese enchiladas). Since we were on the north side of town, there was a gallery to pop in where a friend was showing her work, followed by a couple of quick errands to run. 

Darting and lunging and detouring on our pilgrimage way, our arrival after the thirty or so mile drive to the trailhead was not until almost three in the afternoon. This put the day perilously near the early sunset, but we set out with confidence. 

We were almost immediately welcomed on the trail with a trinity of big horn sheep   who seemed content to allow us to walk beside them within touching distance. 

We were the only travelers on the trail. It's a point of trust when walking in a place never walked before with limited signage. The trail seemed to go away from the Gorge rather than closer, so we had to watch the path with care. Footprints from other hikers were always welcome. 

After about forty five minutes we arrived at the edge of the Gorge where we were greeted with not one but two benches for rest. After praying the afternoon office, we realized it was nearly four, and the sun had moved behind the mountains. Though we had nearly an hour of light left, the air was beginning to chill. It was time to return. 

Knowing we'd been a bit foolish with beginning the hike so late, I was mindful that we were in the middle of nowhere with only sweaters to keep us warm, some water, and phones without service. 

Poorly planned as we'd been, I'd been praying and meditating this week with St. Brendan the Navigator who'd journey with God and a few monks; they had sailed without a map in a coracle for seven years. Somehow I felt safe. 

Which I was--or covered in grace, I should say, despite my lack of thoughtful planning.  The vesper light drive home took our breath away. 

Safely back to Taos, we enjoyed our annual tradition of cappacinnos at the Taos Inn, then home for soup before yet another fire, and Advent stockings, our annual gift exchange. 

Pilgrimage to Taos: Second Thursday in Advent

No wind at the window, no knock on the door 

No light from the lamp stand, no foot on the floor 

No dream born of tiredness, no ghost raised by fear

Just an angel and a woman and a voice in her ear 

Oh, Mary, Oh, Mary don't hide from my face 

Be glad that you're favored and filled with God's grace 

The time for redeeming the world has begun 

And you are requested to mother God's son 

This child must be born that the Kingdom might come 

Salvation for many, destruction for some 

Both end and beginning, both message and sign 

Both victor and victim, both yours and divine 

No payment was promised, no promises made 

No wedding was dated, no blue print displayed 

Yet Mary, consenting to what none could guess 

Replied with conviction, "tell God I say yes."

This is the Annunciation hymn that we're singing at St. Mary's this Advent. I first sang it in worship on Iona this fall and when I heard the words, I knew it was to be shared. 

The words keep playing in my ear, and so when I walked a labyrinth in Taos earlier this week, this was the song I sang, particularly the verse, 

Tell God I say yes. 

Of course, like Mary, we have no idea what that yes will mean. Still, with the breath of prayer, we are requested (I love that choice of word in the hymn) to say yes. 

At Iona Abbey, in the Cloister, is this amazing sculpture. It is called "The Descent of the Spirit."  For me, it is the Annunciation. For me, it is about saying yes.