It's Christmas Eve afternoon, and I am more harried than merry.
I have been back and forth to a couple of different supermarkets three times today. Do we have an onion? Aw, man, we forgot the beef broth! We need port wine for the sauce.
Seriously: we need it only for the sauce, not to get sauced.
It's amazing how a simple task like dinner can become a production. And that production, which winds up being several trips to the store where you encounter all the other harried and bothered people of the world can very quickly make you lose sight of the true meaning of Christmas as you curse under your breath the guy who just took that parking space you'd spied from afar.
On other days during this season, I have taken a deep breath, and allowed my frustration to flow out through my nose and mouth, so that I could stay a little closer to my center. That wasn't working today.
And perhaps that's as it should be. Advent, the season of patient waiting for The Lord is done; we are now at Christmas and I am aware of just how stirred up things are around me. I sense my life is about to shift into a new gear, but I don't quite know what that gear is or what speed I'll be traveling at as I bump along the road. And I do mean bump. The road in front of me doesn't appear smooth. So I better buckle up as God revs up the engine. I have had to take on more responsibility as a co-mentor of our EfM group. My name has been thrown out there to become a verger. And I have tossed my hat into the ring to be considered a delegate from St. John's at the Diocesan Convention.
And that's just what's happening to me in the church.
Outside of the church, I am watching the shifting attitudes in our population on issues such as marriage equality, and am wondering what will be the fate of the case going before the U.S. Supreme Court in March. And what impact will that have on my life with my partner as we continue to live in the less-than-enlightened state of Florida.
And what about our gun culture? And what about climate change?
These are the "things" stirring as I welcome the return of Christ into the world. He comes, as he has every year, in such a tiny and unassuming way, as a baby. But the cute baby does grow up, in more ways than one, to become my example of what it means to be an advocate for a more just world. He is grounded in Love, a listener, and a healer, amidst a harried and difficult world. And I know it is those times when I am feeling at a loss for what to do next, that when I earnestly turn to God and say, "Help me!" the help comes.
And so maybe that's what today's overstimulated rushing around was about. Remembering to stop, breath, and ask for help. Because it will come.