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Advent melody

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Isaiah 41:18-20
I will open up rivers on the bare heights, and fountains in the broad valleys; I will turn the desert into a marshland, and the dry ground into springs of water that all may see and know, observe and understand that the Hand of the Lord has done this.

In the 1970's my friends and I spent time at The Oasis in Evanston, where we looked for renewal and joy. It was a wonderful place, sprung up suddenly in the middle of the academic and social desert, a place where we could explore ourselves without fear. Re-parenting was popular then: attempting to recover innocence and peace, we asked each other to hold us, care for us as children, read us stories.

I also read The Primal Scream, and spent some of my driving time doing just that. Not in road rage, but in an attempt to recover something I lost around age three, when I was taught to shut up in public. Sometimes I needed to scream, but that was no longer OK. I wasn't a baby anymore.

Forty years later I still need to scream occasionally, and I find some internal permission. I am still introspective, and it is wonderfully soothing to put my head in Margaret's lap and let her hold me. Gradually, I realize this recovery and experience of innocence is a lifelong journey, not a task to be accomplished and then set aside.

So there is no hurry now. Singing John Denver's song, I hear Jesus singing to me: "I walk in the rain by your side, and I cling to the warmth of your tiny hand. I'll do anything to help you understand, and I'll love you more than anybody can." Little big man, walking through the cloudburst, laughing in the desert, dancing up a storm.

I am grateful for oasis moments, and just as grateful for dry desert sand. God's presence transcends them and covers them both with honey. The honey falls from the sky day by day, into our mouths. And we are made new. Come, Lord Jesus.

And I can sing too to you, Lord ... and the wind will whisper your name to me, little birds will sing along in time. The leaves all bow down when you walk by, and morning bells will chime. Your peace you leave with us, your peace ... you give us.



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