YOU ARE WHERE YOU ARE

 

"You are where you are" she said when we were talking about Galway's awful traffic which she has to negotiate twice a day. She doesn't mind it that much. Her Dad and I were saying how much we dislike sitting in traffic. My view of cars is that, once you get into one, it's meant to move forward and not stand still. We wonder if it's a female/male thing - Venus and Mars?

You are where you are. She has a point. It's an Advent kind of lesson. Something for me to pay attention to, though I don't yet have to deal with it here, since I've opted not to drive for now. But it's a state of mind too that applies to other situations. Like my garden.

My front garden is a wreck of Winter and sometimes I feel like it's an expression of who I am, how I am. The sight of it repels me. And I want it sorted immediately, if not sooner, as the teacher used to say.

But then I go inside my front door, into the sitting room where I spend most of the daytime hours and this is an altogether better reality. This is the core of my home and the more true expression of my own inner core.

Here I sit at the feet of Jesus by the open fire. Here I pray. Read. Watch television. Do nothing. Think about Hastings - a lot.

Into this space come my sisters and my brother, usually one at a time. We are at home here, our true selves with all of the history we have shared - mostly good, some not so; some resolved and some not. This is our place, our garden the frayed edges of our lives, the sitting room our place of refuge and contentment. Our core.

In this place I can wait very patiently, for long periods. I am where I am. I am waiting and ready.

Much of the conversation in family circles has to do with the arrival of Elf and then the excited waiting for Santa. A couple of weeks ago with my youngest nieces, now in their teens, we were talking about the challenge to Santa posed by the modern houses that have no chimneys. How will he get in? They concluded he could manage the letter box, since he's able to do anything.

I have a personal memory of him coming in the bedroom window. Heard him come in a rush of cold air, felt him pull the bed covers up over my shoulders. Refused to look in case he would disappear and when I knew he was gone, jumped out of bed to find our presents beside the bed in large brown paper bags. It was an exceptional moment.

There's not much talk about what I'm waiting for. Very little evidence of the Christ aspect of Christmas, though Park House has a lovely crib in their most tranquil of foyers. A lovely spot that we used to go to years ago for special occasions. Been there a few times now because you can have a coffee without the clatter and clamour of regular coffee shops. Noise affects me more now.

Having said all that, I still like the atmosphere of the Christmas Market in Eyre Square, the happy movement of ordinary people among whom Christ is hidden, as He was that very first Advent. 

Have you put up your decorations yet, is a common question these days. I'm a December 8th kind of person. What I have done is made myself a cute little Advent wreath from a berry bush out the back garden, and placed it in the front porch so that an Advent light will be visible to the neighbours. Visible, even if not understood.

Of course I will do the decorations, including a real Christmas tree. To have the scent of it in the house. And I want to go up the Big Ferris Wheel at night with Katie and Laura so we can see all the lights together. It will give me the wobbles but it's worth the go.

You are where you are! But the Gospel has a significant add-on. The need to be alert, awake, prepared. For Jesus! It's partly why I want my garden to be in better shape. For Him. But I really have to learn again that it is through the out-of-shapeness of things that He comes. The Winter garden is the essential landscape of His coming.

Evelyn and I had a lesson in alertness at Gatwick airport the day we travelled back from Hastings three weeks ago. We were understandably overwhelmed after the astonishing weekend of my departure. And laden down with the abundance of gifts that are the expression of the People of Star of the Sea. I thought we'd have loads of space in two 10kg priority cases but we had to borrow a large check-in one as well.

And we were managing fine, gave ourselves lots of time. Got out onto the tarmac and then waited and waited to be allowed board. We were at the back stairs, grateful that it wasn't raining. An official arrived with his torch which he kept shining at the belly of the plane. Not a good sign and we accepted that it was better not to fly in a doubtful craft. They brought us all back in and told us there would be a two hour delay, so if we wished we could go back to the main departures area. Which is what we did.

I noted that the display board said, "Shannon Gate 5 Closed." I said it should now say "delayed" rather than closed. So, off we go for a coffee and a bun, all the time keeping our eyes on the board which continued to display the same message. We were sagging and sat ourselves in comfortable chairs, with our feet up on our cases. I closed my eyes. Then suddenly Evelyn noticed that the display had changed to Gate 2 Closed. Better go down and check.

All was very quiet and a lady official asked excitedly if we were going to Shannon. "Run" she shouted, "it's closing!" Much earlier than previously anounced. Oh, my goodness, did we run! Dragging our 10kgs and backpacks across the tarmac and to my consternation the back door was closed, so we had to walk the full length of the plane in a flap. The walk of shame, Evelyn called it. Not elegant, but we made it and our plight seemed to delight the passengers around us, who assured us that they weren't waiting that long!

A lesson in readiness, the need to be ever vigilant, to question what is there in front of us. 

Sometimes now I find myself running for the bus, a throw-back to childhood when running for the bus was a daily reality, since I was always last minute, reluctant to be going where I had to go. Resisting reality!

Using the bus and not having a car has forced me to be more still. I meet neighbours at the bus stop and in the local shop and we chat and they are glad to have me home.

I am where I am!

"...to this have I been called, to wait on God, a moment, forever in expectancy of surprise."

Poems for Advent

Some of the cards I received when leaving Hastings 🤗

My Advent Playlist on Spotify