Bring me a white horse for Christmas

I've begun writing several posts that are now sitting in my saved drafts. There are so many ideas running around in my head. Bits about life at the hospital. About lunch breaks spent down in the Wood Chapel. Lunch breaks where I spend my time reflecting on advent themes, where I can't put down my used copy of Franny & Zooey, where the same man comes in everyday to pray in a certain direction.

Posts about scurrying home from the Wicker Park early morning service to start decorating the house for Christmas. Even though Missio Dei doesn't light advent candles, I can still visualize how quickly Christmas is coming. Back at Bethel there would be two pink candles lit on the wreath with the big white Christ candle in the middle...

I've started writing about music and how much it plays a part in my life. About incredible experiences at the Congress Theater seeing Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes as well as Grace Potter banging her long blonde hair all over the stage and then in a different realm the incredibly still and haunting voice of the petite brunette who helped lead corporate worship last night.

I wanted to share a conversation I had with a near stranger who if nothing else introduced to me a simple way of describing a complexity. That is for those things that don't fit in a box or under one label. Those people or ideas that you can't quite grasp....because they are not an 'either or', they are 'both and'. Because, for example, there are those people who are both calm and intense -- and it's not necessarily contradictory, moreso, I'd say it's a fusion of two things.

And all of these things stem from this inexplicable amount of contentment and joy that have decided to dwell in and around me this season. And for this, I am incredibly grateful.