I wrote to one of my friends today, “I feel like this week is just one long day where I happen to keep changing clothes” and it seriously feels that way–late, late nights of community service all week long, and the next two nights aren’t any different.
In fact, I’m supposed to be giving two talks: one tomorrow on Our Lady of Guadalupe and the other on Saturday about God’s love.
I told my oldest brother, David, this and I said, “What do you think I will say?”
And he said, “You’ll probably just be perky and colorful” and he didn’t say, “and silly,” but that’s kind of what I want to stay away from, as I respect my audiences, undoubtedly important adults with strong educational backgrounds and busy schedules and other, better ways of receiving information.
The thing about both talks is that they’re both wonderfully rich but also beautiful and simple and, let’s be real, who am I to talk about either? Pretty much no one.
I wanted to have colorful paper & visuals and good, stretching prayers and respectable, mature information, but instead I’m just a tired girl running on not enough sleep and not enough food and not enough time.
On the way to work a few days ago, I was thinking about my Advent and how much I’d love to just immerse myself in more prayers and more preparation, but instead I’m running hard and probably mostly just falling short.
But, then I thought about these days of darkness as the solstice approaches. Maybe these days of me falling behind are really, honestly just that way because God sees it fit to pack my life with more blessings than I can fit into the brief moments of sunlight we’re given these short weeks of December. All these gatherings and assignments and responsibilities? God filling my days with wonder. For real. “Here are more blessings than you can even fit into your life, child.”
I get to give talks about the things I love most…me, the one with little training and shallow thought.
At breakfast today (toast with PB&jam) my mom was talking to me about those who struggle through the season, and I remembered one of my favorite lines from A Christmas Carol and so, twice, I recounted:
“…though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that Christmas has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!”
Look at the ways my days are packed–beyond what I can even fit inside them. This, too, is grace.
Happy Advent.
Prepare ye the way of the Lord.
Pray for me, guys.
(P.S. 7:00 mass tomorrow and then talk by me, btw, folks. Sans a ton of colorful paper, but I will have a happy raffle and tell stories and maybe even teach you a song on my ukulele).
(Because I have no sense of personal shame).
(And because I love you).