Last weekend I was part of an Active Prayer Retreat. Participants learned praying in color, gentle movements to prayers and the stories of Christmas, and cross-making. The cross-making session was taught by Ellen Morris Prewitt. Ellen started making crosses from broken and discarded objects after 9/11. She needed a physical way to respond and pray about the tragedy.
During the cross-making session on Saturday, we chose pieces of wood and other natural objects to create a cross. Some of the instructions were: ”Pay attention to why you chose the items you did” and “Don’t look at your neighbor’s cross because you’re bound to think it’s nicer than yours.” Afterwards, some people shared the story of their crosses.
I chose some basic sticks, a clump of dried flowers, and two big seed pods. I have no idea what the pods are–maybe okra–but I chose them because I thought they were kind of creepy and scary looking. Fear is one of the emotions which tries to mess with my faith. My fears are the basic ones: fear of abandonment, failure, old age, incompetence, inadequacy, rejection, hurt, war, parenting issues, cockroaches…. I must continually place them at the foot of the cross. So I decided to tie a symbol of my fear to my homemade cross. The fuzzy, weather-vane thing at the top of the cross is the pods. The cross now leans against a wall in the kitchen.
Last night while my husband and I were sitting in another room, we heard a glass-breaking sort of noise. Then we heard another one. It sounded like a fan falling apart or someone throwing things. When it happened again, my husband went into the other room to investigate while I cowered on the couch. To our surprise, the seed pods on the cross had exploded and sent the seeds and pods flying around the kitchen.
It was a funny kind of irony that my symbol for fear had made me afraid. So I guess I can add that to my list of fears. Jesus, you have a lot of work left to do on me.
Yesterday morning at 4AM it was dark and windy. After tossing and turning in bed for an hour, I got up and made a pot of coffee. The Advent wreath sat on the dining room table and seemed to beg for a light. So I lit the two candles for November 29 and December 6, the first two of the four Sundays before Christmas. The candles gave off just enough light for me to write in my journal.
As I wrote, the words from Isaiah 9:2 kept cycling through my mind: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined.” (NRSV) This is probably my favorite pre-Christmas reading. Sitting by the candles in the cold, shadowy room gave me a visceral glimpse of both the spiritual and physical darkness of the times Isaiah describes. No electric lights unmasked the long blackness of a winter nighttime. Candles were probably a hard-earned luxury.
I love the passage from Isaiah because it reminds me how thankful I am for the electrical technology which shatters the “deep darkness” of the outer world. But the words also remind me that a deeper darkness sometimes pervades the inner world of my mind and heart. The deeper darkness, however, is not the final deal. The “great light” of Jesus is the final deal. And that light can shatter my inner darkness whenever I let it in.
I’ve been feeling a little bummed out because we will not be with my older son and his wife at Christmas this year. Although we live almost 2000 miles apart, we try to spend every Christmas together. Either they fly to us or we fly to them–often on December 25 after all of the Christmas services are over. Because of flight costs and indirect flights through snowy cities, it hasn’t worked out this year.
So I’ve been in the “if only” mode of thinking. ”If only” Adam and Melissa were here, it would be a great Christmas. But a bit of deja-vusurfaced when I heard myself say “if only.” ”If only” I get that chartreuse sweater or the newest baby doll or a fancy hair dryer, it will be a perfect Christmas. Those were flashbacks of Christmases past–from my childhood and adolescence. Even when I received the coveted items, I wanted more.
I still catch myself doing this. “If only” I had a gray turtleneck or a pair of purple suede boots, my wardrobe would be perfect and I won’t need or want another thing until summer. But it never works that way. Each “need” seems to beget another one. Tweaking my wardrobe or my life with another “if only” just makes me greedier. If Adam and Melissa came for Christmas, I’d probably say, “If only you could stay ten days instead of five.” At some point I just need to put the muzzle on “if only” and say “Thank you.”
So I’m working on being grateful for what is. I’ll miss my faraway children on Christmas day this year, but I’m grateful for my husband and the younger son who will be here with me. I’m also grateful for the people who have invited us to eat shrimp gumbo with them on Christmas night.
“Pray diligently. Stay alert, with your eyes wide open in gratitude.” (Colossians 4:2 MSG)
These are the people for whom I’m praying this week. My intercessions for them represent the whole gamut of human experience–celebration, tragedy, assault, surgery, dying, recovery, healing, new ministry,…. The simple pen and ink doodles remind me to pray often.
Here is the first week of my Advent calendar. The circles are 3 1/2-inch diameter stickers. I bought the stickers for a kids’ Praying in Color™ workshop because there is a lot of room on them for words and doodles. Kids and adults can use them to create prayers for people and then stick them where they will be noticed during the day.
The words and phrases on the calendar are from the Bible and from the Christian tradition. They emphasize Advent as a time of waiting, preparation, and expectation for the coming of the Messiah. As I write the words and draw, I try to listen to what God might want to say to me through them.
Praying in Color: Drawing a New Path to God combines memoir with theology. Step-by step instructions introduce the practice of praying in color as a way to do intercessory prayer. »ABOUT SYBIL MACBETH
