ANTICIPATION

It is coming. Around 6 p.m., and it will last a full 24 hours. 7-12 inches of wet white snow. I am excited. This will guarantee a white Christmas, and like a school aged child, I long for a day when I will be unable to do anything the world expects. A whole 24 hours to play at doing nothing. Which will free me to BE everything I believe God wants me to be.

I am trying not to plan how to spend this snow laden sabbatical, but I have some ideas. I want to remember. Chris. Patty. Walter. Mom and Dad. Roosevelt elementary school. Washington Junior High School. Horlick High School. St. Olaf College. Princeton Theological Seminary. Bay Shore Lutheran Church. Shelter Island Presbyterian Church. Racine. Holy Communion. Today.

I love remembering. It is healing for me. I let faces and places and feelings wash over me like a first Spring breeze. I savor the recollections of sweetness and intimacy and joy. I am amazed at the transformation of tragedy into waltzing dances of hope. I am enchanted by the gift of Life which is offered by the act of remembrance. It always makes me want more.

I like to listen to the snow fall. I can hear the Word of God. The whispered messages of being God’s beloved child. The call to stillness and to knowing God alone is God. The surrendering of arms of pride and prejudice, and the acceptance of the embrace of Grace. I can hear that I am forgiven. I can locate the sounds of hope and peace. I can be free of the noisy world long enough to hear the beat of my own good heart.

Probably…I will read a good book. I will paint a small painting – expecting it to be good. I will make a catch-up phone call to a good friend. I will send a thank-you card for a good deed. I will eat a good nutritious bowl of soup. I will listen to good music. I will claim the real good life, and admit to my frustration with how our culture has lost the art of living simply and kindly.

I will watch a good movie with my son and his wife. We will laugh out loud, or weep out loud, or loudly complain that we got fooled into watching a bomb. We will chat and evaluate. We will have it all figured out in about an hour. We will then debate the events of the day. Of our world and our lives. We will argue. We will discuss. We will grow frustrated or calm. We will wrap it up with embraces and love all around. We make sure we are all alright, and then we part company.

I will tuck myself in. I will pray. I will review. I will worry. I will wonder. I will get up and read a bit more, or paint a bit more, or write something. Then, when sleep has tattooed me, I will submit to the covers. First, I will look outside. The snow will be whipped and Carvelish. I will begin to lust for tomorrow’s photos. I begin to plan my route. The best possible photo shoots.

I will have no dreams. I will only snugly climb inside the one I am living. The one granted to me by a drifting storm of snow. The delightful adventy gift of anticipation.