An Advent Detox

"Advent then is a time for judging the choices we make in how we are living our lives.  Advent is a ritual moment for confronting discomforting truths. It catches us in the act of living unconnected from the Gospel..." -- Advent and Christmas (Bridges to Contemplative Living with Thomas Merton), The Merton Institute for Contemplative Living

Detox - where a system is returned to normal after becoming used to living with unhealthy substances. 

I need one of these on my spiritual plane.  Not that I don't make more than my fair share of physically unhealthy choices, but this is in addition to trying to fix that diet and exercise deficiency.  I think that I need cleansing from my addiction to negativity.  I suffer from a decline in my ability to produce well-being cells because my generic despondency is choking them out.  

Now, before you jump to any conclusions, you should know that I've been like this for a long, long time.  Heck, when I was in high school, my mother continually threatened to send me to charm school.  I'm sure she got sick of seeing me walk around with my arms crossed, scowling.  I was emo before emo was cool.  

I'm planning to start with a version of step 4 of the 12-steps that have helped so many of my friends in the past.  I need to complete a "searching and fearless moral inventory."  Yuck.  For me, this is looking like paying attention to when I'm trending blue and putting a name to it.  Whether it's boredom, depression, covetousness - I need to call it out and face it. 

This won't be a permanent cure for my inclination to gloom.  Without both hands firmly on the wheel (10 and 2, dammit! 10 AND 2!!) my attitude will have a tendency to pull to the left.  I'm not sure how far I will get in four weeks.  I'm going to need concentration, and a lot of help from God, to help me manage the underlying attraction.  And, like step 5, I'm going to have to admit it all to God, and, in lieu of a sponsor, I'm going to need to lean on my community, so I'm probably going to admit it all to you, too.

Now, because I can, and because I need a pick-me-up, here's a random song that makes me smile.  Oddly enough, I just realized that this is all about a change in attitude.  How about that.

The Gift of Hope

He that lives in hope dances without music. -- George Herbert

Hope is a mysterious creature.  Sometimes I'm still not sure it even exists.  When my husband was ill, initially I had a whole lot of it.  You kind of have to in that situation.  No matter what the doctors said.  No matter how short the predicted remnant of his life.  As the weeks went by, hope soared as prayers were answered with brief spates of remission.  Hope was eclipsed during periods of decline.  Then the cancer spread to his spinal column and there was no more that the doctors could do.  In hospice, there was a glimmer of hope when his appetite returned.  Then, it disappeared altogether when he could no longer respond. 

Time passed; I don't know that I really paid too much attention to hope over the years.  I guess it was always there behind the scenes, keeping me moving.  It wasn't always recognizable so I assumed it was gone.  Dormant at best.  After all, what was there to be hoped for?  Endurance.  But like a kind of optical illusion or fun house mirror, I couldn't see it even though I was looking directly at it.

It was hope that kept me getting out of bed every day.  That kept me working.  And, even though I said it was for my daughter, it was hope that eventually brought me to church; the hope of reconciliation and a fresh start. 

Nowadays, it's hope that keeps me coming back to church.  And hope that picks me up after countless disappointments.  It's the expectation of better things - on Earth, maybe; after death, certainly.

I don't know whether or not hope laughs, as Bill said in the sermon this morning, but I think it does tease. It's the elusive shadow of God dancing just near the horizon.

Every

Child

Has known God.

Not the God of names,

Not the God of don'ts,

Not the God who ever does

Anything weird,

But the God who only knows four words

And keeps repeating them, saying:

"Come dance with Me."

Come.

Dance.

Question

Today I got some more work done around the house.  Not much, but some.  Better than I thought considering that I was up until about 3:30 for work.  Plus I got to go to the bookstore; more for the eventual bookshelves.

Tonight, though, I have a lot of questions I want to ask God.  The details of which I'm not quite ready to share here.  I'm not doubting His omnipotence, or anything like that.  Certainly He's going to do what He's going to do. 

I just want to know why some things happen or don't happen. 

I just want to know how long is long enough. 

I just want to know how I'm supposed to believe that He can hear one single person in such a crowded world.

Is it wrong to question God?  Is He mad that I do?  

Knowledge, not faith.  That's what I'm looking for.  Probably not the best mindset to have going into Advent.