Another year has come and gone and it’s all over. Advent week of love. Lighting of the Christ candle. Joy. Sorrow. Anticipation for a new year. I wish you peaceful moments to reflect this season… maybe even muse a little. I wish to remind you of the true reason for the season: a tiny babe sent to earth to save the world. May He bless you as you celebrate. See you soon, my beloveds.
Welcome back, my beloveds, to the last week of Advent and the countdown to Christmas! We are so unprepared! Nevertheless, time will go on and Christmas will come and go – whether I am prepared or not. Hopefully, this little post will help us all get in the mood. Thought I’d share about the final theme of Advent for this week: Joy. Our youngest experienced the joy of her first snow day today. A new experience for us… buses cancelled and therefore no one shows up to school? What’s with that?! I’m not complaining though… it means I don’t have to drive in it. Bonus.
This is not the first time I’ve mused about Joy. It’s a recurring theme on mittonmusings.com. If you are interested, go back and check these posts out. They’ll make you smile:
Unspeakable joy. It’s one of the lyrics in the adapted Joy to the World hymn that’s circulating around this time of year. I wonder, though, what does it mean? Unspeakable joy. Usually when you experience “joy” you wanna chat about it, no? Shout: ”Snow day! No school! Hurray!” Tell the world about your experience? Spread the news? Does unspeakable mean indescribable? So dumbfounded that you can’t speak about it? Or awe? Like the marvel at something that just takes your words away. I’m thinking it must be like that.
I’m also guessing it takes a little bit of discipline to see those things around you that bring that unspeakable joy. I’m imagining a new mom… hectic chaos in the midst of bottles, burps and bathing. It’s not until that early morning feeding when the quiet allows you to take a moment, when no one else is around, to marvel at your baby’s tiny features. So perfectly designed. The softness of their delicate skin, and the sweet smell of sour milk and baby powder. If you know, you know. I wonder if Mary had that moment with baby Jesus. I’m sure she did. In fact, I am sure she had it a few times.
I’m learning to discover it more and more as I take the time to slow down and practice seeing those little things in the world around me. Tiny footprints in the snow. The flame of a warm fire as it dances. It’s dangerous. Fire consumes. Yet, if you take the time to quietly observe things, you will see the beauty in it. That’s when that marvel comes in to play. That’s when you begin to get that awestruck “joy” that there is Someone so much bigger than you who has mastered the tiny intricacies of life as we know it. And that Someone has set them in to place so that this big wide world goes ’round with the exact precision it needs to be set at. Amazing.
We had a unique experience this past week when we were decorating our front porch. We discovered a dead pigeon on the lawn. Now before you scroll away, hear me out. We don’t know what happened. There was one tiny blood streak. A hawk maybe. Or a cat? We don’t get a lot of pigeons, so I think it was dropped in from elsewhere. And I don’t want to glorify death, but there was something beautiful about this bird. Each feather layered in a silky, smooth collection. Some feathers glistening in green and purple iridescence. A striking contrast to the grey and white body feathers. Each wing stretched out to reveal strong flight feathers. Yet so light as to carry this creature on the wind. It hit me with that awe and wonder for a moment. I was able to somehow experience the joy in death. It allowed me to observe a creature I would otherwise not have been able to examine so closely had it been alive. Do you get it? I hope you see it through my words.
And it’s the wish I have for you, my friend, as you go into this holiday season. I wish you the chance to experience “unspeakable joy” this Christmas. To practice seeing the beauty – even in some not so beautiful experiences. Perhaps, like many, the holiday season is not an easy one for you. It is not the “happy” season everyone talks about. Joy is different. It goes beyond the happy to a deeper, somehow indescribable and unspeakable emotion of awe in the essence of Christmas. The emotion behind the truth that the Creator of the entire world came to the earth as a tiny, helpless babe. Do you feel it? I wish it for you, my beloved. Joy, unspeakable Joy, to the world!!
Oh, beloveds! It’s already mid morning on Tuesday and I am just now sitting down to blog. Not that I had anything better to do. I’ve been up for hours already. We had a slow weekend visiting with friends and family. I could have sat down to write yesterday, (or the days before) but I made turkey soup instead. We hauled out the Christmas decorations and my new farmhouse looks like Santa vomited in the living room. I’ve no idea where things are going to go. New house and all. They say life is like that here in the country. You are allowed to take things slower. Revel in the quiet and observe the world around you. You are allowed to have stuff everywhere. People are okay with that. I guess we have come to the right place.
Right now, the world around me is windy. I can hear it howling through our cedar trees outside. I see them bend and sway. The front porch rocking chairs have been rocking on their own all morning like they’ve been taken over by the Ghost of Christmas past. It’s cool, but I suspect winter will bring worse. It’s dark and cloudy out there… which makes the day seem so much heavier, and my mood even more moodier. I wanna snuggle back under the covers. Everything looks the same bleak brown and grey colour under the cloud cover. I’m hoping the sun peaks out later and brightens my day… and my outlook.
So. Let’s curl up together here on the couch and have a chat, shall we? What shall be our muse for the week? I was contemplating Christmas decorations. Country, rustic, Christmas decorations to be specific. We had all the kids over on Sunday to “help” decorate. We didn’t get very far – we ended up visiting and eating and socializing and playing with the dogs and taking a walk up the hill. Hence the still present Santa vomit.
I was hoping my girls would help string together my citrus garland. I also made a cedar swag and “foraged” some dogwood and birch tree twigs. My Pinterest dreams for my front porch and farmhouse windows are going to be Instagram worthy this year! (If I ever get them up!) Keep following along on my social feeds for stories and updates for when those actually happen. I’m not going to post how to’s here as there are much more talented folks out there of which I am learning. I’ll just show you those attempts and you can judge accordingly.
Let’s get back to the muse. I have discovered that the “country chic Christmas vibe” is in fact, one of nostalgia. The red pick up truck with pine tree loaded in the truck bed. The pick up is a working vehicle out here. Everyone has one. Except us city slickers. Citrus garlands -because oranges were rare treats to cherish on Christmas morning. Barn board. Cedar swags, red berries, pine cones, birch bark twigs…. all readily available from the land this time of year. Which pains me greatly to see them in the store with hefty price tags! I made the poor hubby drag those birch branches outta the wood a few weeks back. His fall coat covered in burrs and muddy gloves was worth the price. Slight diversion in thought here… but seriously people, these things are free with a little searching and a willing husband. I love country vibe. It’s good for my frugal mindset.
Today is apparently poinsettia day. I’m sure many of you know the flower originated in Mexico. There are a sprinkling of legends and stories that tell of how the plant became associated with Christmas – taken to evening mass on Christmas Eve and presented to baby Jesus as an offering. Late in 1828, Joel Roberts Poinsett was an American on a diplomatic trip to Mexico when he came across the plant known locally as “Cuetlaxochitl.” Another avid plant guy cultivated the flower and the two made it what we know today as an international Christmas icon. But. It started out as a weed. A Mexican weed whose pretty red “petals” are actually leaves. It’s not even a real “flower”.
As I think and ponder and look back on these “festive decorations” that I have just described, I am struck by the beauty in the everyday. I am again reminded that the howling wind through my cedars can become an icy pot of greens that sparkle and shine when the sun finally does come out. Our Saviour was born in a stable. I now have some experience with hay, straw and barnyard smells. I wonder if Mary cursed the flies and persistent lady bugs. Maybe Bethlehem has other bugs. I bet the shepherds smelled like campfire and urine. Did they hear the coyotes and worry about their pets too?
And so I have come to the realization that Christmas, perhaps, isn’t all Mariah Carey glitz and glamour. It’s humble beginnings, quiet, windy mornings, and seeing the beauty in nature and the everyday. It’s celebrating stinky stables, and being grateful for oranges and warm beds with tattered quilts. It’s seeing the value of hard working machines and pick up trucks and the simplicity of making a living from the bounty God has given us. It’s taking a simple weed and seeing it as a symbol of beauty.
Thank you, Lord, for helping me learn these lessons with my reader friends today. Our journey has again reminded me to see the Glory of You in our everyday. I pray that you will help us focus on the Peace that you bring on this second week of Advent. There is so much going on in the world that is so opposite to Peace, that I am grateful for the reminders. Help us to see it. Help us to cherish the little things. To see the weeds as beautiful. To be thankful for our blessings. To take time to listen to the wind and know that you whisper through it. To slow down and be quiet. To remember the humility of a stable. May you send blessings on the readers touched by my words, Lord. May I remember to be thankful for the ability and the freedom to write them. Amen.
mittonmusings 