We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have, these two
housed as they are in the same body.
—Mary Oliver
I saw this poem circle round social media as our country shook with joy and grief, hope and rage. What a time we are having in this year, in this world, in our bodies, holding such terrible, tender tension.
Our shaking is not done. We have so far to go. I don’t know where we turn next.
But when I reach the end of what I know, I find the mystery of God.
I don’t know how this works, but it is true.
Each time I step outside at night and stare up at the stars (a strange prayer practice that grounds me like nothing else), I wonder at how small I am, how tiny the world is, how vast the universe stretches, and how wild and wide and wondrous our Creator must be.
I am staring at the sky even more in these darkening days. Looking up, looking out, looking beyond are the only ways to keep going through the slog of this year, this country, this pandemic, this election, this floundering fall.
For whenever I reach my end, I meet the edge of God. Open, silent, waiting, inviting.
We are about to enter into the holy time of waiting. A season of darkness. A spark of hope that flickers into flame. A celebration of impossible becoming possible.
Advent is always my favorite, but at this turn I tremble at what it might hold. Could we know joy after such grief? Could God be born among us again, as awful as we are to each other right now? Could we find a way to finish this year on the calendar—or begin the next year in the church—with any hope for what comes next?
I do not know. But every time I stretch to the breaking point of what I can understand, a presence beyond understanding steps in with quiet peace.
The mystery of this presence is known by a thousand names, and each name for God is holy.
I’ve been praying and writing with God’s names all year, and they have given me words when I had none.
This week Blessed Is She launched a Christmas book that I wrote on the names of Jesus, reflecting on one name for each day of the whole Christmas season.
Emmanuel: A Christmas Feast is now available: a collection of Scripture, prayers, reflections, hymns, and artwork for you to enjoy.
In this hard year, we need to remember what it means to rejoice. We need a guide to joy—and the names of Jesus offer us this.
When I started dreaming of this book last Christmas, I wanted to create a way to enter into the fullness of the season. After a long, lovely Advent, we often rush through Christmas in a frenzied whirl, forgetting that the holy season lasts for weeks.
So Emmanuel offers us the chance to slow down and sink into everything that Christmas unfolds.
You can learn more about the book here with my affiliate link and get your own copy (or one to give as a gift). The book is a glossy hardcover, perfect for enjoying year after year. And the art from Jessica Coe at The Living Heart Co. is simply stunning.
We are on the threshold of change as Christmas comes. May we listen carefully and walk slowly.
If you’re still looking for an Advent companion
You can get Emmanuel + Advent together in this bundle from Blessed Is She if you want to pray all the way through both beautiful seasons.
My friend Cameron Bellm has written a free Advent devotional based on the writings of St. Óscar Romero. Get your free download here.
I signed up for Advent Made Simple: a free video series featuring an amazing line-up of Black Catholic speakers (including a few of my online favs— Chika Anyanwu, Fr. Josh Johnson, and Sister Desiré Findlay).
Quick takes for this week
My friend Linda is speaking at the free Catholic Moms Summit from Nov. 13-15. Linda’s story on “Pursuing Holiness as a Single Mom” is powerful and must be shared, so I hope you’ll tune in. Sign up here with her affiliate link.
Speaking of speakers, Leticia Ochoa Adams has created an incredible resource in her Catholic Speakers of Color website. If you’re planning a event—especially now that virtual formats allow us to bring in anyone from anywhere—please check out these speakers and spread the word to colleagues in ministry.
Speaking of ministry, I loved this reflection from my friend Katie Cassady on changes in calling, work, and identity: “Regardless of the vocation we find ourselves in, or what our day job might be, I am certain that it doesn’t have to look polished or published to allow for that spark to grow…how delighted God seems to be when we find delight in our circumstances—any circumstances.”
Speaking of delight, I’ll leave you with two favorite poems for fall, on grief and hope.
Redemption Song by Kevin Young: “Grief might be easy / if there wasn’t still / such beauty”
Sometimes, I Am Startled Out of Myself by Barbara Crooker: “And then the geese come calling, / the leader falling back when tired, another taking her place. / Hope is borne on wings.”
Peace,
Laura
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Find my books here: Everyday Sacrament | Grieving Together | Prayers for Pregnancy & Birth | To Bless Our Callings | Living Your Discipleship