Hold on to that thought that we’d like to end up with Love. I could call up Hope because that is the only way to face an unknown, and I could slap in Joy because a little background music moves the day along. Then But, Yet, However – whatever conjunction you want to use, is this a time of Peace? Is that even a possibility? By the time I have waken up my brain with NYTimes Connections, at least seven comments on a list from seven deadly sins and few upsetting happenings are waiting my perusing.

Here’s my work toward a better attitude list. In the movie Green Pastures of 1936, the African American pastor reviewing the Bible for a group of children says at one point, “It looks like everything nailed down is coming loose!” He ends with a not right crucifixion and a so right resurrection. Takes a while to get there. Then a rather long quote gifted from a friend. Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart.”

And the next step is a Bible verse; there is always a Bible verse. The first calming two for me are from Psalms. 131:2 – I am calm and quiet like a baby with its mother. I am at peace. That leads to Psalm 133:1 How wonderful it is when brothers live together in harmony. I can look at the December word Peace because as Paul told the Romans about Abraham: He plunged into the promise and came up strong, ready for God, sure that God would make good on what he had said. And this was the message He sent by angels to welcome a baby.

“Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

Luke 2:1

I don’t remember the word being used, but the nearest activity to making Advent happen in December as part of my childhood Christmas was attending the late service at the Episcopal church. My mother was an Episcopalian and a nominal Baptist because she felt families should worship together. In the Baptist tradition we had stories from Matthew and Luke and sang very traditional carols. When the four Sunday celebration was introduced, I first did it at school (allowed then) with the symbol of a wreath and greenery and candles and an order of progression from promise to kings. I looked up a current approved order and found that Hope is usually first and Love last and the middle can be whatever mixture of Faith, Joy, and Peace is chosen. Joy doesn’t begin until the 14 in my church. I am sliding into it early because I have a story to tell.

A friend took me this past week to a symphony concert at the Rice University music hall. The stage was filled 112 talented performers. (I counted names in the program). The main piece was Prokofiev’s Suite from Cinderella. The program notes were very detailed about each section of the orchestra featured as the story unfolded. Several times mention was made of brass instruments providing emphasis for some scene. Though I could hear the tuba, they and various horns were blocked visually by rows of strings. At the end of Act III the prince journeys to Cinderella’s house and begins the sequence of trying on the lost shoe. The brass became louder and more defined and then, at the height, the percussionist rang his cymbals and held up two golden orbs whose vibrations sustained the triumph of the moment. I watched people on the row ahead of me. Faces broke into smiles and heads turned toward a seat mate. Music led to JOY!

For me, the next step on a perfect journey is knowing the joy that awaits. Even in a temporal life, moments of joy are the cherry on the sundae, if that’s what you like. A perfect souffle, a new home, a promotion, an unexpected reconnection with a friend. Sometime exuberant; sometimes as quiet as a child tiptoeing to a new baby and carefully extending a finger. That’s what good news brings whenever it happens – JOY! It took angels’ music to declare the ultimate reason to everyone. This is the way I learned it, Advent or not!

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.(KJV)

Luke 2:10

Maybe the word juxtaposition could be the introduction. All of us have little threads of being we don’t brag about in public. While I am not a mathematician, I do have a slight ripple of arithmetic and logic that comes to the fore only in geometry. especially forms that curve. Hence, creating Venn diagrams is a delight. The simplest definition is that those overlapping circles define a subset. Amidst disparity, some things are alike.

Just think. Choose any three items from your closet. Would your even best friend want them handed over? Walk into a party and delight in people you are pleased to see. Yet are the choices on the dessert table what you would choose to serve? You and a co-worker have to complete a project together and one sees a vision and another the problems. There is an inner circle where what is alike holds moments together. “Not that color, but you and I both love that style sweater.” ” I hate one bite tidbits; I only came because we always have the most interesting conversations.” “At the last moment, we were great at lobbing our idea back and forth for the presentation.”

I live in a neighborhood, a city, a state, a world. Each place holds those I know. A child at the Little Free Library, the checker at Kroger, a niece in Austin, a son’s friend in England. Part of any of our lives makes its own circle without them as does theirs without ours. Then, at this time of year, two subsets appear. A smaller less important one for Christmas, and for four weeks designated as Advent, we create a larger intersection based on the beginning of a liturgical year that matters to us. Everything this Venn contains leads us through a story to a baby promised in this verse. We share the waiting together.

For to us a child is born,
    to us a son is given,
    and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
    Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Isaiah 9:6

I grieve for those for whom this is not some type of together celebratory day. Most of you who may read though are probably not in this category, thankfully. The three words in the title are or have been part of your day. “Over the river and through the woods,” is the Thanksgiving carol. A walk next door to share with a neighbor, Braving an airport for a long weekend. Cars on interstates and up a familiar driveway. No horse drawn sleighs, but various means to gather the group, with even a telephone call being backup when needed.

It really may not be a recognized adage; however, “no one has ever gone hungry at a pot luck meal.” Granted, there was the year younger ones scraped an aunt’s tomato aspic into the pot plant. That was a point off the curve. Various people appear with what they do best. Someone is General in the kitchen, usually the one responsible for the turkey. They also manage the time sequence on using the oven. Children are supervised in the setting of the table. At the right moment, a sonorous voice calls for a moment of gratefulness before filling plates begins. “Don’t take that last scoop of potatoes before I get there!”

And more important than left-overs, what we take home is the memory of seeing family and friends’ faces again. A group of cousins catches up on the year’s happenings. They spent Christmas with a different branch of the family. The cherished elder appears one more time and tells stories of the beginning of the gathering while the newest baby is passed around. Even though the letter says winter is coming, I don’t think Paul was in Rome at Thanksgiving in the first century. A small church cared for his needs, yet a memory person was needed. Call names of those around you and be thankful this day for those you love!

Only Luke is with me. Bring Mark with you when you come.

1 Timothy 4:11

No AI or Chat, just a random collection of my thoughts while focusing on next week’s holiday and what it can mean and why. Supposedly, and loosely historically, the first feast happened after the survivors of the Mayflower‘s arrival joined with indigenous neighbors to celebrate a year survived in spite of. Then I thought with no possibility of gratitude of banned books which I have taught while what is denied literarily is shown literally as part of daily news. I have a scattering of spiritual support for offering thanks thrown in. Yet, what tipped my scale to developing a thankful attitude was an assignment I gave an 8th grader one year.

Mario, name is changed to protect the innocent, was a high performing scholarship student from a low income school to the private school I taught in. He had possibilities and some areas that needed guidance. He skillfully wrote readable prose and never used a period. In desperation, I typed a whole page of heavy black dots. He could not turn in an assignment unless a good number were cut out and glued to a breathing place. Focusing on the need one dot at a time, he met his quota and was able to take obligatory breaths.

So, maybe what I need leading to next week is a list of noticing small times to offer thanks. I can easily get caught in a tangle of world problems, cost of coffee, and children who aren’t fed. Yet, if I can be grateful for what I have, maybe I can share that with someone else. Making myself aware of what is offered has been welcoming an invitation to a musical event I didn’t think was possible, considering a left over meal that means I didn’t have to scramble to feed myself, and, high on the list, making a trip to Boerne next week to be with part of a family with whom I have gathered for most of 64 years. I found my God basis for a yet in Habakkuk 3:17- 19. Find your own good reason in one of the options below. Rejoice and be thankful!

Ephesians 5:20 1 Chronicles 16:34 1 Thessalonians 5:18

One more look at the sun. We have day and night and also one of my favorite lessons to teach. Because of the tilt of the globe we call earth that allows a movement of more sun from south to north and back again, we have a variety of time when seasons occur. While we’ve had sweltering days, the Antarctic area was mostly in darkness and June could be a snowy month, However, the sun is inching back toward the equator. Colorado already has had short lived flurries of snow and now frost most mornings and we in Houston are preparing for our first sweater moment – a welcome 45 degrees. That count as deep winter.

Preparations you probably made were two steps: pull out a sweater and change ac to heat. However, my childhood memories were more specific. When the evening weather man predicted a drop in temperature north of the lake from New Orleans, actions had to be taken. A trip was made to the attic to open a trunk and gather clothes and bedding to be aired. They had been packed away with moth balls and for a few days everything had a defining odor. My family bought one window ac unit after I went to college, so the only requirement to cut back on cooling was to close the doors at both ends of the house. Every room had its own small gas heater. My daddy had to check the vents to be certain they weren’t clogged with dust. I earned a Girl Scout badge learning to strike a match and managing to light the heater without singeing my hand. I haven’t even mentioned heavy wool blankets and down comforts that were handed down from one generation to another

By the time you in my area read this, this first cool snap may have come and gone. Others times will take their turn and some time in February we will be thinking spring. Those who live in the tropics will never know a change is possible. So, metaphorically enjoy the gift of a season as one of life’s dependable moments. Slow down, be warm, drink hot chocolate, and watch a movie of your choice. It’s our turn in the cycle.

For as long as Earth lasts,
    planting and harvest, cold and heat,
Summer and winter, day and night
    will never stop.”

Genesis 8:22 The Message

Whatever research ensued from my developing this blog was not inspired by a desire for deeper knowledge. A friend had gifted me a version of a smart watch which shows time and is used mostly to mark steps. As of Sunday morning. I need an app I don’t want to update it, so I will go through half a year making a mental adjustment to be either late or early. How did we get to this point and how do we think we have really changed anything? As far as I can tell, the sun comes up and the sun goes down, and it pays no attention to labels we put on its cycles.

Note: cows were milked in the morning and Abe Lincoln read by candlelight until WWI. Find your own details, but DST was non-existent between the World Wars. Then there were exceptions and even today some areas of the world just take what is provided. Where you live in America determines how you set your clock, and October/February babies set their own sleeping and eating schedule without ever consulting a clock. Mindboggling terms appear like “shift an hour” (who does the pushing) and “a patchwork of daylight” (sounds like sewing some darkness in to make a quilt square.)

At the end of the day (Pun intended), no definitive research says without a doubt this is the best decision since sliced bread. Some business have made financial gains and some golfers have kept courses open after work. However, coffee shops have lost money and the advantage to the energy sector is inconclusive. Proof does exist that strokes and heart attacks increase and disruption of that flow of a day, circadian rhythm, causes loss of sleep while adjusting. I figure that if we are saving with DST we should be amassing interest at some point. The adage says, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Could we just live with what we were given?

And there was evening, and there was morning—the first day. Genesis 1:5

Two syllables and may be one of the most awesome words in the language. Make a choice can evoke a picture of a child standing in front of a Baskin Robbins glass while a parent says, “Make up your mind!” Two can be standing in a church saying, “I do,” to begin a life commitment. And after weighing all options, someone may have to utilize a power of attorney document put in place with trust for such a moment. On one hand some decisions can be irreversible and conclusive, while some are inevitable, yet may be faced multiple times. “Do we really want chicken for supper tonight?”

With the help of a transporting son, I made a choice Monday that I’ve cherished as my right since my earliest memory. My dad took me with him to the Log Cabin in Hammond and sat me on the counter next to him while he used an ink pad and a pencil eraser to mark his choice on a ballot. Since I turned 18, I have claimed my right to have a say in people and some laws that control parts of my life. I’ve been to school libraries and the back corners of grocery stores. I have voted early on site and with mail in documents that I had to sign my name over the flap for security. I have pumped my fist with elation over some outcomes and almost cried over some loses. Truthfully, I have been well-informed and sometimes chose for gut feelings. Look up Overstreet’s poem Stubborn Ounces. My choices were a part of the final count.

To bring us as a group or an individual throughout our lives takes choices. In Joshua 24, the Israelites have gathered after 40 years of wandering. Joshua is an old man and he summarizes all the steps in that journey and he charges them that they have one more choice, and with that choice comes responsibility. The people have a choice, but regardless of what they choose, Joshua has a resounding final comment: This is where I will stand.

Choose today whom you will serve……..As for me and my family, we will serve the Lord.

Joshua 24:15 (edited)

No, I haven’t downloaded that app. It’s just the story of my life this week and I’m writing at the last minute in a therapeutic fashion for me even if I know some part of it will match with you. From the first click of my lifely clock, I have been a morning person and a five minute manager before the term was invented. My body can be doing one task and my mind practicing a presentation for 8th grade literature. However, this week has slipped in “haftas” that totally put my “want tos ” in confusion. If videos had existed they would have been marketable!

Two underlying phrases I relate to. The opening of Lassie Come Home, (my favorite dog book) says, ” It’s time, it’s time, it’s time to go for the boy!” I relate. My internal clock sends messages of what’s next on the list. Then I had an uncle, obsessively early. He left for every appointment with time to change a flat tire on the way. I count being late as definitely among, if not first, of the deadly sins. This week the universe has inserted itself and rearranged or put off my plans. The coffee pot wasn’t aligned and didn’t drip correctly. Drought shifted the house and the front door sticks. I have had an appointment early enough each morning to mess up my counted on sequence of beginning. An unfinished project lies accusingly and messily on the dining room table.

Stop, breathe, and look where I am. One of the over one hundred quotes about time says, “Time flies, but you can be the pilot.” In spite of all, I have made some impressive checks by “Done that, move on!” Tomorrow for now looks as if nothing is required until 11:00 and even that is optional. The final statement is, I really can only do my best in whatever comes. God’s word to Job affirms that while reminding him that God does start the days. Thank goodness!

Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place?

Job. 38:12

Depending on your age and your occupation or need, Monday, October 13, may have made some changes in your calendar … or not. No mail, only ATMs, yet stocks could be traded and most schools had a long week end. Details and time frame of celebration or not can easily be found with the now ever present AI. As always, what we have lived with gives us a foundation. I grew up when Columbus Day was not to be treated casually, but noted and respected. However, balance these adages: “To the victor goes the spoils,” against “History is shaped by the evidence that survives.”

So, other than filing 1492 from a requirement of history class as a year to be remembered, a song and a poem validated the celebration, All of my first through twelfth grade school was gathered in the auditorium for a program. We sang Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean, a candidate for the national anthem for some years and a reminder of Columbus’s voyage that found a block on his venture to India. Then year after year, some high school senior girl (no idea why never a boy) gave an emotional reading of Joaguin Miller’s poem Columbus, Not only did I pinpoint geography, I claimed the “Sail on!” cry at the end, memorized all myself, and eventually taught it to grades of student.

Back to the “History is shaped…” statement. Stories of conquest and mistaken claims of land abound in history books. Columbus Day now shares the joint title of Indigenous People Day for those who occupied the land and were designated as Indians, a mistake difficult to shake off. Though we are not required to sail literal unknown seas, figurative journeys seem to abound. Often we go forth by faith and not by sight. Something needs to keep us going besides a song or a poem. The endurance to “Sail on !” may be in this verse.

But I’ll take the hand of those who don’t know the way,
    who can’t see where they’re going.
I’ll be a personal guide to them,
    directing them through unknown country.
I’ll be right there to show them what roads to take,
    make sure they don’t fall into the ditch.
These are the things I’ll be doing for them—
    sticking with them, not leaving them for a minute.”

The Message Isaiah 42:16