Out my window tonight I see a melting snowman, the one my kids made last weekend. It looks like how I feel. Its nose and hat have both fallen off… some rodent has run off with the carrot nose. The snowman is leaning way too far to the side to be standing and yet, it is, in some sort of physics defying advent miracle.

            After this day of running around gathering stuff from stores, I’ve discovered my lists of ‘Christmas Things to Do’ and ‘Christmas Things To Buy’ have been getting busy making baby lists while I was out.  They have taken over my house. So have many empty Amazon boxes, which my kids have claimed and turned into ‘boats’ or ‘campers’ or ‘secret treasure cave hide-outs for the cat.’ There’s flour on the floor from cookie-baking, broken ornaments lined up behind the super-glue, piles of cards waiting to be mailed, and a mountain of crumpled up used Kleenexes because the three year-old insists that I throw them away and I’m politely declining his request. (Sometimes not so politely.) My Christmas music-streaming app keeps crashing. My tea continually gets too cold too quickly. And another newborn list was just born. 

            Drinking my cold tea, meditating on the darkness outside… I suddenly realize that someone has stolen all the peace.

            How’s your peace this Advent?

            Also, on Sunday the church my family attends was protested. My kids and I were walking from our house to worship. We were almost there when we were greeted by angry signs blaring about homosexuality being a sin. Which is wrong. One of our pastors is a woman married to a woman. She’s amazing. My brother is married to a man. And I’ll punch you if you say that he’s not the best (there’s precedent). People love who they love and I celebrate it all, because God knows our world needs more love. Not less. A wonderful woman from church was using her body as a shield, blocking the hateful words. Some of the neighbors we were walking with were deeply shaken by the sign-holders’ palpable disgust. My little kids saw it all. I felt rage. And tears. Those sign-holding assholes were out stealing peace.

            But I forget.

            I forget that being peaceful does not mean being happy. Being peaceful doesn’t require a perfect world. Being peaceful means being calm- and remaining calm when life around you is not. When I am missing my peace, it’s because I haven’t been calm. I cannot blame someone else for stealing it. Making peace is my gig. It could be your gig too.

            We are all waiting for something great. We’re waiting for peace.  It’s still dark out there, and at this pre-solstice moment, it’s actually getting darker. But, have no fear because when we calm down we find tiny, glowing bits of light. Everywhere.

          When I am calm the candles on our dining-room table seem less like a kid-unfriendly fire-danger and much more gorgeous. When I am calm I notice that the long lines of brake lights in front of me, reflecting on the icy road, might seem a tiny bit festive. When I am calm I can look around my glowing house, in all of its boxy, list-y, floury mess and realize that life is pretty great.  

            The mysteries of our wintery world are deep and wonderful. The fact that light exists is an actual miracle.  I will hope that you find a surprising number of glowing things all around you. And I will hope that brings you peace.