The sheer
drudgery of journey is remarkably
absent in travel magazines.
I see
fresh-pressed khaki, sun-kissed smiles, and streamlined luggage skimming
smoothly over tarmac as glossy as the pages I turn.
Even the
paper cut I get on the side of my finger is precise and clean-edged.
For travelers
of flesh and bone, the Earth turns with rough beauty:
The sun
burns, rain chills, and strange winds drive dust like shrapnel;
there is:
the placing of foot before foot, eyes
cast down seeking a predictable landing in unfamiliar terrain;
the kinesthetic of each arm swinging
with stride, heavy with the burden of bundles and time;
the restless scanning of a bewildering
landscape for routine comforts;
and the unfamiliar greeting of strangers,
busy on their networks of constructed pathways incomprehensible to tourists.
Journey is to live in the alien present
in a relentless search for home.
My missal is
crisp with the newness of December; the Advent journey has begun again.
I enter the foreign
landscape of sand, stars, and a Savior-Child.
Shepherds
and kings rush by in a restless riot of joy, angels fly as thick as fog.
But
stillness lives in the stable—the donkey and ox.
Deprived of
their manger they stand patient,
seeing with
soul-eyes the sacrifice—Bread of Life—offered up for all.
Their
waiting holds no internal movement of chronology; neither is it passive.
instead it
is Presence held in dynamic
meditation, a still movement through
time.
Journey is to live in Presence, a quiet
center in a relentless search for home.
Many blessings on your Christmas journey and throughout the New Year!
Faith & Vincent and the family:
from left to right on the carpet back row: Maggie Muggins, Gabe, Janna Banana, the Lovely Ladies (represented by Emma in the front row), one unamed honeybee (on the Nativity stable), and Puck! (looking in the window) ...
