Missive

I had a dream that I'd posted an invitation to our local spiritual group meeting, and I woke up "realizing" that I would "have to cancel" that nonexistent "invitation" of mine for today. My heart sighed -- in reality -- with missing that meeting. Because it's Christmas Eve day, the meetings will resume next week. Sounds rather backwards, doesn't it? I really needed that meeting today ... when "too busy" drowns out the sublime hum of Blessed Mother's quiet, patient waiting to bear The Christ ...

I go to that meeting whenever I'm able to, because there I can find a gathering of people, coffee, desserts I'm not supposed to have, and conversation. Yes, the conversation happens to be about God, centering upon the God-man, Jesus. Now and then a morsel reaches me and probably nourishes me in the regions of my spirit I cannot see or feel. I typically don't "feel" much in regard to my faith, although I'm probably supposed to. Faith, for me, has never been based upon religious feelings about God. That would be impossible, as I've never had even the bare minimum of "religious" "feeling."

I typically find my Christianity in weeds and pebbles on the road; in abandonment, insults, heartbreak, crushed spirit, accidental musings, and moments which spark realization; in Biblical time connections which link prophetic references; and -- most rare, but treasured when it happens -- in memory found or suddenly hoped for.

This morning, I was reminded -- again, because I do try to forget at times when the teaching demands much -- of "where my bread is buttered," and Who is the source of both my bread and my butter.

It is He -- that Baby God Who was born, poor as dirt, beside the animals ... as close as possible to those pebbles and weeds.

Yes, He can be found along the road.

~ Turquoise