DECEMBER 3RD | THROWING BEAMS OF LIGHT
Photo: K. Dagen
There was both joy and sorrow on the days of the week marked for long runs. In order to take care of the little ones still snug in their beds, we woke before dawn while our husbands held down the sleeping forts. Strapping on flashing lights and reflective vests, fastening the clasp of the belt which held the water bottles, and double knotting our laces— we met each other in the circle in front of my house. We whispered our hellos afraid that the early morning air would carry our voices and wake someone with more sense than we seemed to have at that very moment. Who knew that clicking register on that marathon website would result in this type of training run?
We start off slow with many layers to fend off the morning chill. The sky is pitch black sprinkled with a million dots of light. It is as though a colander has been laid over our town with heaven’s brilliance poking through the thin veil. There are creaks in our joints as we start off jogging toward the main road out of town. One of our knees feels tight, another is nursing a hip flexor issue, and yet another suffers with constant pain in one of her feet. Running the route together for so long we know each others injuries well - we don’t need to speak of our physical pain. It is evident in the slap of our feet and the list of our shoulders.
As we silently make our way through the apple orchards that act as a border between our homes and the beautiful mountains to the West, an unexpected thing happens.
The glory of God breaks through the stillness.
Miles into the run, the sky erupts into a chorus of song as stars chase each other from their perch in the heavens down to earth. It begins slowly at first, similar to the way in which the sun’s rays crest the Eastern horizon each new day. One then another, and another until the whole sky is filled with meteors.
None of us knew to expect this heavenly performance. We stop in our tracks as we take in the masterpiece of God’s creation that few others are awake to witness. Smartphones are yet to be invented so the only means we have to catalogue this miracle is to be absolutely present and aware. We stand still in awe staring up at the sky. God is with us. We are not alone. We have not been forgotten. He is real.
After the goose bumps on our arms settle back down, we adjust our laces and take a sip of water. The meteor shower ends and we continue forward winding our way deeper into the country, away from cars and the crowds that will fill the roads as soon as the sun rises over the horizon.
Advent often arrives in a similar way. She is silent, nestled between our turkey of gratitude and the egg nog next to the tree. She waits patiently for us to notice and see the glory that is hidden from our world-weary eyes. She points, if we let her, to the path we should take. The path that leads to love and away from division. The path which leads to noticing the needs of our neighbor rather than competition for resources. The path of adoration of our Creator and awareness that we each have a role to play in building the Kingdom of God.
Yet, we are tempted to snuggle under the covers of our complacency for just a minute longer. Our minds tell us to stay safe behind locked doors and superficial smiles. In the busyness of the month, we tell ourselves there is not much harm in focusing on our list and not on our people. Advent comes to wake us from our somnolent stupor.