whisper

They’re printed, the Jesse Tree ornaments.  Cut out, glued to the back of old Christmas cards. The wreath was made from things already here, the ornaments, too. No lamination, just Mod Podge and help from him.

Yesterday, the first day of Advent, almost another failure to note. Almost. But the wreath sitting on the coffee table reminded me at the very last moment. Hesitant to call up the stairs to them to admit my oversight, they answered with tooth-brush stuffed mouths. And yes, they both came down in their underwear to read the first devotional of Advent with me.

And they weren’t upset.

Earlier, he helped get the printed sheets of this book into page protectors and a binder. Me, with secret hopes of this becoming a tradition for the generations to come.

Wondering if they’ll put their candles in mason jars. Wondering if they’ll use the Mod Podged ornaments with recycled memories on cards from years gone by. I hope.

Something feels different this year.

This quiet waiting

This peace in my soul

expectation

this trying, this intentional listening

“Go out and stand on the mountain in the Lord’s presence.”

At that moment, the Lord passed by.

A great and mighty wind was tearing at the mountains and was shattering cliffs before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.

After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.

After the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.

And after the fire there was a voice, a soft whisper.