The Third Week of Advent

Meditation Before Dawn

I am a spiral held in a circle

               Held in a circle of Love.

           I spiral in to the depth of my being

               Held in a circle of Love.

   I spiral out to a world in need

               Held in a circle of Love.

I am a spiral held in a circle

               Held in a circle of Love.

                                 --MEW 11/27/05

The Second Week of Advent

Mother of Dark Spaces,

I bring myself to you,

And we sit, so still, waiting,

In the silent, early morning.

Sit, without a word;

Only breath,

Only breath.

At first light,

Snowflakes, perfectly formed,

Falling slowly, slowly.

Awe!

                                                     --MEW 12/8/13

The First Week of Advent

"O, Come! O, Come!" 

though I know You are here now

in this aching world and deep within my wounded self. 

What I feel and know are at odds. 

I feel the dark descending...

     empty, lonely, void, silent.

Yet what I know is pregnant darkness:

     In the darkness of the earth, hidden, a seed germinates.

     In the darkness of the womb, hidden, a baby grows.

I long for that which I already possess, 

that which is already infused in every cell of my body

and every atom of the Universe. 

Yet, when the dark times on Earth and within me come, 

I forget...I forget.

Remind me...

Re - mind me...

change my thoughts, my assumptions, 

my habits, my heart. 

Let me turn my face to You

and let Your Light shine in my darkness. 

Let us become the Light shining.

In this time of increasing darkness, we hold in memory and hope the glimmer of Light returning, yet always here. Light your candles in anticipation and longing, be it for Advent, Hanukkah, Winter Solstice, Christmas, Kwanzaa, or a celebration all your own.

"We are the Light of the World."

Ah, the Cat!

Why has my cat chosen this somewhat inconvenient place for me to take her nap?

Oh, yes, much better if you cram yourself under the kitchen cabinets!

But look carefully. Notice the corner of a vent peeking out? This vent is directly over the basement wood burner that was fully loaded and belching heat through this one vent. No wonder it did not feel very warm to me upstairs in the kitchen!

Ah, the cat!

Down Memory Lane

I have always...at least as long as I can remember...loved trains. So a trip to Chicago to visit my Aunt Cora AND to catch a visit with my son, Joe, needed to start with a train ride.

After an early start, I rested quite a while, but woke as we were passing fabulous recycling facilities. There were car bodies stacked 5 high on pallets, engines, wheels. There were piles of crushed concrete, chopped up rubber, glass, sewer piles, and lampposts. I saw mobile home frames and camper shells, cardboard and plastic smashed into giant cubes cubes and stacked in rows. I LOVE recycling!!!

Later, a gray view of Lake Michigan while I read a novel. Yes, me, reading a novel!
I LOVE NOT DRIVING to Chicago!

I spent the day with my Aunt, and after some goodbyes the next morning, I headed into the city via the commuter train line to visit my son and his friends that he was visiting. Joe and I took a little trip to the neighborhood where my grandparents lived. In my previous post, there is a picture of my family standing in front of my Grandma and Grandpa's home in 1956. Here it is about 57 years later. It felt so familiar!

My Grandpa Jim had had it built to his specifications in 1940. The stone around the front door, the bay window, the decorative set of the bricks along the corners, and the glass block windows. I am honored to be the keeper of the original blueprints and purchase records. I spent a lot of time in that house and yard as a child. It was a real treat to go back and see it again and to see how well it has been kept.

The next day, Joe and I went into the Loop via the "L" and the subway. This is something I used to do often with my grandparents when I was young.

I would stand in the very front of the first car and look out the window. And since the sound was deafening when the train was moving, I would sing at the top of my lungs with no concerns of being scolded for being too loud!

I'm so grateful to have had the time and help from others to be able to get in some family visits and a trip down Memory Lane just before Thanksgiving time. Thank you, everyone!

Happy Birthday, Grandma Gertie!

Today, in honor of the 110th anniversary of my Grandma Gertie's birthday, I hung my laundry in the basement. As a child, I spent many a rainy day roller skating in my Grandma's basement to the music on the Victrola, weaving in and out of her freshly washed clothes all hanging on the lines. She had a fabulous wringer washer; nothing more that a tub with an "on and off" switch for agitation and an attached wringer through which she would feed the dripping wet clothes repeatedly until they were ready for the line.

Grandma Gertie, aka Gertrude Anna Murray, was born on November 18, 1893 in Chicago, Illinois. She was my mother's mother, and the Grandma I knew best. She married Grandpa Jim in 1919, then raised two children, ran the household, and later often cared for all 5 grandkids. Here we are in April 1956. My mom is on the far right with Grandma next to her. I'm the short one, about 3-1/2 years old. Then my half-brother, Brian, three cousins: Kathy, Marge, and "little Jim" in front, and my Grandpa Jim on the far left. Grandma's hair may have still been brown then, but I only remember it all gray.

Grandma Gertie was always old to me, yet ageless. She had a great humor, loved to play the fool, would sing and dance in the kitchen with the broom, burned the toast every morning (no automatic toasters then) and made fried chicken unparalleled to this day. Here she is in 1982 with my son, Joseph. Not sure who was having more fun!

This is my last picture of Grandma Gertie taken in November 1985. She died in December that year. I've long studied this picture. At first glance she seems tired; like she was ready to go. And yet there is the tiniest hint of a smile, I think, like maybe she knew some secrets that only someone who had lived a full life of 92 years could know. Hey, Gram, would you whisper a few of those secrets to me in my sleep tonight?