burrowing into december, month of miracles and searching
this is the month, they tell us, of miracles. “a miracle happened here.” so say the hanukkah refrains. it’s the month, too, of searching for a room, searching for room in your heart. so say the stories of christmas.
amid the month of darkness, miracles await in the nooks and the crannies. amid the month of december, there’s searching to do. deep-down searching.
here’s a secret: sometimes, you’re wise to approach the days with a deep-down quiet. that’s how you come to hear the whispers, and the cries that haven’t the oomph to rise to deafening decibels. that’s how you just might stumble into a miracle, sometimes find room in the cave of your heart.
the three, it seems, belong together: the quiet, the miracle, the room.
december for plenty of folks is a month of tight passages, and tangled adventures in forward motion. december is a month that grabs some by the ankles, tugs at them, tries to topple them, steepens the climb.
december, when you turn down the noise, unspool the days in whispers, tiptoe rather than race, is when you just might hear the scratch at the door of your heart. you are awake to the muffled cries that come in from the cold. and, often, that’s how you find yourself in the company of miracles, and discover a few extra inches in the capacity of your heart.
in recent days, i’ve tumbled into one or two souls in shadow. souls who couldn’t for the life of them see the light. certainly not their own. i wonder if i’d been racing through the days, a list of to-do’s blaring in my ears, if i would have heard quite how deeply they were hurting.
thank God, i heard.
i paused. i took a breath. shoved aside what the day had intended for me to do. instead, i climbed into the trench where each one found him or herself. i sidled up beside the soul in shadow; i said little. i spoke in actions. because sometimes only in doing can we really truly speak. i made breakfast, plopped it on a tray, ferried it to the someone whose soul was hurting. i unfurled blankets, and we sat side-by-side. i listened, all day.
the magic of loving is this: it works both ways at once. have you ever noticed that in your moments of deeply loving, as you lavish kindness and gentleness, as you exercise dashes of creativity to give your love some oomph, your own heart is growing right alongside the one you’re working so hard to love?
tonight a friend i love is coming for dinner. she’s a friend whose world has shrunk quite dramatically of late. the moment i imagined inviting her for dinner, imagined the candles i’d light, the napkins i’d lay out, imagined the plates piled with deliciousness, imagined the hours of uninterrupted conversation, i felt my own heart grow.
it is in giving love that we find it. that’s neither radical or new. it’s an old recycled truth. but when we live it, especially in the month of december, month of darkness and miracle and making room inside our hearts, it takes on a radiance all its own.
i’ll kindle lights tonight. i’ll aim to kindle light each and every day. i’ll keep my ears tuned for whispers and for cries. i’m making room. i’m tumbling into miracles.
those are the stories, the truths, of december, blessed holy month.
how bout you? are you tumbling into miracles, making room?
Omygosh … may I please come live at your house? That plate! My mind could never even imagine making a plate like that. YOU are a miracle, my friend. And how blessed we all are that you continually guide us in this loving one another business … xoxoxo
you can move in, and we will make a tent out of blankets, and stay up all night solving the worries of the world. don’t even knock, just swoop on in. xoxoxo
Just this week I saw the miracle of a “chosen” family supporting one of their own colleagues to travel across many oceans to her family of birth, a final wish when all of the power of medicine can’t cure illness. The power of hearts feeling and listening made a miracle possible, even though those loving people wished that they could just say “stay with us, for it is evening.” It is the courage of the Maccabees and Mary saying yes despite all of the facts and the courage of a “chosen family” which strengthens and kindles the wick within my heart
oh, wow! i am imagining the fine grains of this story, the story you’ve told in broad outline, and we can only imagine. love your intermingling of Maccabees and Mary. your fluency in all the paths to the Divine is a beautiful thing. in my eyes, one telling magnifies the other, amplifies the truth that we are all keen to the same deep understanding. bless you, and thank you for stretching my heart simply by whispering that such a miracle story unfolded in real time this week. i needn’t know the details to understand the power of the love. xoxoxox
“it is in giving love that we find it. that’s neither radical or new. it’s an old recycled truth. but when we live it, especially in the month of december, month of darkness and miracle and making room inside our hearts, it takes on a radiance all its own.”
In this month of darkness and all through the year, I find comfort and warmth near your radiant, beautiful heart. Your way of seeing, of loving, is a light to my path the twelvemonth through. Thank you for this gentle reminder of what matters most in life. xoxo
love that word, “twelvemonth.” sounds victorian. british in origin. we are blessed, all of us who share a gentle, whispered way……may our whispers rise to embolden each of us.
i am warmed immensely by each and every heart who wanders by here, each one adding kilowatts of luminescence….
Thank you, dearest bam, for always pointing us to the light, always shining the light, and always being the light. Merriest of seasons to you, dear one. xoxoxo
you too, dear beautiful. merriest of merries to you. xoxoxoxoxo
I’ve been thinking of your post all week. Your words reminded me of words from one of my favorite teachers who often said we would be called to hold hope for others, when they might not be able to or until they could hold onto hope for themselves. Bless you dear Barbara, for holding that hope for others. For bringing light, and warmth, and nourishment…
oh, my…..those words hold such power, “i’ve been thinking…all week.” oh, dear heaven, that the words typed here on a friday morning linger beyond the day…..i love the words of your teacher, reminding us that we are called to hold hope. and never let it go for those we love dearly and deeply.
bless YOU for circling by and circling back…..