I'm sitting by the light of the Christmas tree this morning, in the dark, warm in my jammies, with Joey Cat purring next to me. He joins me each morning for my quiet time--a deeply spiritual cat whose loud purring reminds me that contentment voiced is a lovely thing to hear.
I've finished my Ruth homework today, which was good and uncomfortable as God had something very specific to say to me this morning. Specific and timely. Two days ago, it wouldn't have meant what it meant this morning. Each and every time we open God's Word, he speaks. Do we expect to hear him?
And I've read a chapter in Touching Wonder. Meredith gave me a copy last Christmas (after all, her husband wrote it!) to add to my shelf of Advent devotionals. Most years I read many different devotionals during Advent. This year I am reading one. Slowly.
(By the way, I've compiled lots of Advent books, including Touching Wonder, here.)
The Advent story requires slowing down, taking time to ponder all these things as Mary did. I find myself wondering much, asking questions of the story.
How did Zachariah's words change after not speaking any for nine months? Did he speak more carefully after those silent days, more slowly? Did he choose his words with care and savor each one as he spoke it, offering each one as a gift?
What did Mary's mother say to her when she told her of the angel's visit? Did she tuck her in bed that night, smoothing her hair away from her face, remembering Mary herself as a baby, marveling at the smoothness of her skin?
The story of Advent makes me ask questions of myself as well.
Am I ready? The Son of God is coming. And not just coming, but coming to dwell with me, in me. Am I prepared? Will I be ready?