I Invite You

Dear Lord, I have swept and I have washed but
still nothing is as shining as it should be
for you. Under the sink, for example, is an
uproar of mice it is the season of their
many children. What shall I do? And under the eaves
and through the walls the squirrels
have gnawed their ragged entrances but it is the season
when they need shelter, so what shall I do? And
the raccoon limps into the kitchen and opens the cupboard
while the dog snores, the cat hugs the pillow;
what shall I do? Beautiful is the new snow falling
in the yard and the fox who is staring boldly
up the path, to the door. And still I believe you will
come, Lord: you will, when I speak to the fox,
the sparrow, the lost dog, the shivering sea-goose, know
that really I am speaking to you whenever I say,
as I do all morning and afternoon: Come in, Come in.        
        —“Making the House Ready for the Lord” by Mary Oliver

As we head into this Advent season, I invite you to unclench anything that is tight and tense in you. I invite you to release any sense of scarcity that has taken ahold of you, trying to convince you that nothing you do—and nothing you are—will ever be enough. I invite you to breathe in a slow, deep breath of possibility.  I invite you to recognize the abundance of sky and water and earth and time; I invite you to recognize the abundance within your very being. I invite you to focus on the beauty in and around you. I invite you to open yourself up to the grace of God’s blessings knocking on the door of your heart. I invite you to welcome the unexpected joy that is finding its way to you. Invite you to believe that Christ is, indeed, coming to be born—and coming to transform your life—any minute now. . . .

See you in (zoom) church,

Christy