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It was more just panic than panic attack.  I had faired pretty well and even stayed in the hospital a couple extra days this time after I had my second foot hammered and puttied back together and I am glad I did.  I stuck around where I wouldn’t have to worry about getting my own food and water and where I had access to what you might call, “the good stuff,” to help stave off the pain.   So why I had a sudden sense of panic when the young nurse told me I was  about ready to check out is as much a bit of surprise to me as to anyone else.

I was not  panicking because I would have to go home, not at all.   I was extremely eager to get out of the hospital. Extremely.  It was only a little bit like seeing the

finish line or the light at the end of the tunnel that makes one run a little faster.  But this panic was a little different still and it took me a few days to even begin to understand it.

The only way I have been able to describe it so far is that it was like the feeling that a Doctor had come to me with the great news that an arm cast was about to be cut off in an hour or so. But it was as if she and said it and left the room only seconds before a cockroach flew into the and all I could imagine was an hour of that little bugger crawling rooting around right against my skin for too short a time to rush things and too long a time to be able to bear it.  That is what it felt like.  I needed to be home.  I needed to be there “now!”

Throughout the western world the Wednesday before Easter is called,”Spy Wednesday.” It is a reference to the night Judas’ sold-out Jesus to the Roman authorities. It was the night that set the crucifixion into motion.  For that he will always be remembered as one of the most evil figures of history. In some parts of the world on this night an effigy of Judas is thrown from high buildings or dragged through town while people throw sticks at it. He is blame worthy, cruel, and the farthest thing from our imagination we would ever want to be.  Which is why it is so important for us to see where we relate to him.

I hope the way I live with children celebrates their lives.
I hope men and women keep loving and enjoying each other and having more kids.
I hope those kids know I love them even before conception.
I hope I create community so no one in my life feels like a ‘single’ parent.
I hope I honor my father’s memory and love him after death.
I hope the women in my life know I think their breasts can be life giving miracles as well as something others desire.
I hope I help women love their own breasts and bodies as desirable miracles.

Swearing off the exorbitant gift giving of Christmas is something I cannot help but get behind.  However, we also run the risk of being, well, scroogey. Giving gifts is something that is fundamentally human and to relinquish the practice to those who trample each other at Walmart might be as much of a concession to consumerism as maxing out the visa cards.  “Spend money or don’t give gifts.”  That doesn’t sound at all right to me.

Christmas – or any holiday – does not have a meaning behind it.

Of course holidays have certain narratives behind them, but I know of no single holiday that has ever celebrated a story that wasn’t so complex it wouldn’t be summed up in a word or sentence. Nor one that has ever had just one meaning, especially one about the incarnation of God.   Tricky…

Whenever I watch the little drummer boy, I don’t stand a chance.   I’ve cried every single time I have seen it as far back into my childhood as I can remember. I tried to be strong.  I vividly remember that awful literal lump in my throat. But at least one tear always snuck out. That is because It is an extraordinarily beautiful tale.

For the full 29 days you can go here. 

 5 Five Lessons from Advent:

A second reflection on grace and gifts: Here is the first: Taking Candy from Strangers.

My Aunt Pauline’s peach cobbler, and mysterious. She is one of those magical cooks who does not work from a recipe. She has mastered the art form, knows how to do what she does and does it effortlessly. Several of us in he family, including me, have tried diligently to reproduce the magic without any notable success. For years for my birthday it is the one thing I have asked from her. Not only does she not mind, it honors her. Its like “our thing.”