Isaiah 42:3

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.

To those reading along me Advent & Christmastide Readings with Church of the Sojourners, you will recognize this verse from today's passage.  I also recognize this from a word given to me by a visiting pastor a couple of years ago.  He saw me as a reed, bent almost to the point of breaking, but gave me this verse as words of encouragement knowing that God had a plan for me that did not involve my destruction.  We christians talk a lot about brokenness - that we actually need to be broken, like the the leaky clay pot, to be formed into something new - to recognize our need of God.  So what is this about not breaking the reed?  I like that it is coupled with the image of a smoldering wick.  I have a fascination with candles, and have observed and even manipulated many candle wicks.  I get really, really frustrated when a wick burns down past it's point of usefulness without using up all the wax in the candle.  I actually have a secret supply of wick which I insert into the melted wax of candles that in my opinion are not ready to die.  When the wax is finally gone, I am satisfied that this candle lived it's life to the fullest and did not die prematurely.  A reed, if it is broken, is cut off from it's life source.  It will die, there is no way to save it.  This is not the kind of brokenness we treasure in the church.  We are a part of a life giving vine and we must stay connected to thrive, or even to just survive.  So God may break me - or allow me to be broken - indeed He already has, like the leaky pot that needs to be broken and even pulverized into powder to be formed into a new, whole, functioning pot.  He will not, however, cut me off from my life source.  So in that way - I am a bent reed, but with the support of the reeds around me, I have grown stronger in my creases, and perhaps I stand tall now.  I keep lots of candles around - and remember that I really did need a new wick to keep burning. 

O Love that fires the sun, Keep me burning... (Bruce Cockburn)

Sheperds watch are keeping...

The hustle and bustle of hosting 16 + guests on Christmas day is over now and I sit now this Monday morning at 7:00am with my warm cup of tea trying to put into words what happened in my spirit on Christmas Eve.  A hike to twin peaks was what I really desired that day - and it was granted to me as a gift - accompanied by someone dear to me.  Turns out he was missing his family that day - and perhaps the walk was as much a gift to him as it was to me.  Later, as I mopped our dining room floor and listened to my Christmas mix . . . shepherds watch are keeping . . . the words stuck, rung, and circled in my head.  I began to play with the syntax in my mind.  In commoner language, we would say that the shepherds are keeping watch, but that wouldn't rhyme very well with the child who is sleeping in Mary's lap. Sleeping and Keeping end up at the end of these beautifully poetic phrases which have become so familiar to us. But as my mind played with these words, it switched out are and replaced it with is:  "Shepherds watch is keeping." If shepherds remains plural, then the only noun left to do the keeping is the watch.  This linguistic backflip in my head was like an epiphany (a little early - because January 6 is still on it's way).  My thought process:  Just as the shepherds were caring and watching over the sheep, the very act of watching was what kept them where they needed to be to hear the good news of redemption, the birth of a child who would save us from our sinful selves.  Even as I continued to mop the floor, I thought of those I keep watch over - some near, some far, some only in my prayers.  My children, of course, are the primary receivers of my care.  But this very act of caring, of keeping watch, actually keeps me.  Even preparing a place for people to gather on Christmas Day keeps me - taking into consideration the unique needs of each individual and family, which can be tricky, actually.  For children of divorce, Christmas is a time of year when the brokenness that cuts deep into our souls is acutely felt.  Knowing this as a child of divorce myself renders the holiday season potentially unbearable as I contemplate the sad reality that my own children now face this same brokenness day in and day out.  A simple walk on Christmas Eve, caring for someone I love, kept me . . . sane, safe, where I needed to be to hear the good news.  Caring for and watching over one another keeps us all right where we need to be, waiting for God to save us from ourselves. 

One a day... (Forty Days in the Wilderness)

In talking over the struggle to journal with my mother recently, I remembered back to the summer of 2009, on the verge of divorce, when I decided to choose a word for each day of my 40 day "Love Dare" endeavor.  Some days couldn't be confined to just one word, and others couldn't be confined to just one language.  At the end of forty days, in spite of all my efforts, the divorce papers were signed anyway.  These are the words I chose in the format I posted on my facebook page:

Forty Days in the Wilderness

by Dawn Noelle on Friday, July 17, 2009 at 9:36am

grief
a time to tear down
anxiety
loneliness & hesitation
exhaustion
release
interruption
starting over
letting go
lucha (struggle)
journey
remembrance
contemplation
debilidad (weakness)
recovery
solidaridad (solidarity)
unwanted
empowerment
concern
divorce
peace
restless
lost
incomunicado (out of communication)
celebration
contentment
uncertainty & confusion
patience
no fear
entrega (giving over)
rest
resolve
questions????
something new
concern
investigation
need