Through Stained Glass: Advent Word a Day--Fire

"Narrow shafts of divine light pierce the veil that separates heaven from earth."
Pelagius

Fire

I have no deep thoughts today. 

Yesterday there was no post for 'breath' because much of the day was spent in meetings or visiting with folx. By the time I got home, I needed to catch my breath.

Today's word is 'fire.' 

The clouds are hanging low this morning. When I drove to Kickapoo Park to take the dogs on our daily walk, the fog was hovering above the Eaton factory. Fog seems to be hovering over me, too, especially my mind!

The woods were quiet. We interrupted a morning meeting of the Whitetail Deer and unintentionally kept chasing them through the timber. The light rain from early morning made the trails soft. The leaves on the ground were bright and shiny, green and yellow, brown and gold, carpet laid out for us as if we were royalty. 

I'm one of the few who doesn't mind cloudy days this time of year. When the clouds are low, and the air is full of moisture, I feel held -- silly, I know. It is as if the Holy Spirit reveals Herself in a very physical form. Her presence preaches to me -- the very being of all of this -- of all of you -- is sacred, holy. I love how our Celtic siblings put it: Every child, every woman, every man, every person, and every life form is in essence divine.  

The psalmist in the 24th Psalm writes:

"The earth is the Lord's and all that is in it,

    the world, and those who live in it,

2 for he has founded it on the seas

    and established it on the rivers.

Today in the fog and the dampness of the woods, I remember the Incarnation -- the embodiment of Love. 

I have nothing really to say about today's word 'fire.' Baptism imagery abounds on days like today. While we complain and long for the sun, perhaps we can take a moment to remember our baptism and be thankful for God's presence in our lives. 

Today's picture is of my beloved Golden Retriever, Chloe. Five weeks ago, She was diagnosed with lymphoma. We were told we had 4-6 weeks with Her five weeks ago. For the last five weeks, Chloe has lived with tenacity and grace, a combination as firey as Her coat. In literature, fog represents the boundary between illusion and reality. At times it doesn't seem real that She is living with cancer. And yet, the reality is that she is, in fact, living! As the flame of Her life shines bright in the presence of death, I'm hopeful -- and I rejoice that She, like us, belongs to God in both life and death. 

And that good news, that breath of wisdom from the Spirit, is enough to fan the flame of my faith! These good days -- even as the bad ones creep up -- are the logs for the fire during these long winter nights.

Interesting -- as I conclude this piece -- the sun breaks through the clouds, light and darkness dancing together, bringing forth Hope.