Quiet, Mindful Advent Morning

My coffee is hot, and I'm listening to my new winter album, Snow Angel by Over the Rhine (thanks to the several of you who mentioned it - it's a keeper.) I think it's snowing again - at the very least the sun isn't visible this morning and it's that quiet, grey winter dawn that just makes you want to sit and think for a while.

I've tried to practice being more mindful this Advent - it's sort of working. Obviously, two original blog posts in one week is a reflection of that. As we begin the true countdown to the move (my final Sunday is a month from today), I'm trying so very hard to be observant and not miss anything these last few weeks. In other transitions in my life, I was sometimes so ready to move to the next thing that I shortchanged the experience of ending well. Not this time.

I wonder sometimes if one of the reasons so many of us struggle with Advent is a lack of mornings like this. Yes, I want to go charging off into my day, and I'll get to that soon enough. But right now it's grey outside, cold and wintry. There may be some fresh-fallen snow from last night to further smooth and deaden the already silent environment. There is a hush here that you can't experience on a beach or even without snow and cold. Shoot, I struggle to be mindful and practice Advent waiting when I'm surrounded by this - how miserably would I fail if we lived in Florida full-time, or Australia, where now they're in the midst of summer?

Anyway - mindful. I walked around the house this morning after Kristin and Ainsley left (early morning water aerobics for my wife and day care for my baby) and noticed how much electricity we were using. Several lamps were still on, though we had only turned them on to be able to see while we stumbled around getting each other and the baby up for the day. The TV was playing CNN even though we hadn't watched any of it - it was just noise. So I turned out all the lights and appliances (except the coffee - gotta keep the java hot). and just sat in the easy chair for a little bit. Quiet house, complete with purring cat in lap and snow outside. A good moment.

Milton has been writing about virtues and practices the past couple of days, much more eloquently than I can manage right now, but in the same vein. I want to live like this, more mindful of the real world around me, the quiet on-going life of the world into which Christ deigned to be born. I don't want to be fooled into believing that life is the glamours it throws up to hide itself - I want to see what's really going on. But getting there takes practice and a lifelong commitment to mindfulness. Or, as Milt quotes from Samuel Wells:

Habit develops instinct, a pattern of unconscious behavior that recalls a deep element of character...The early church believed that its own fragile and vulnerable state was deceptive . . . They demonstrated this faith by maintaining nonviolence, the practice of confronting evil using only the weapons that Christ himself used. The early Christians also believed that they were a distinct people with a special vocation. Their form of life was dictated by no criterion other than faithfulness to Christ. Their identity was expressed in baptism. They believed their common life and servant practice were the heart of the gospel. They believed their calling was to show what kind of life was possible when communities lived in the light of God’s providence and they embodied this faith in their celebration of the Eucharist.

What is my character? How are my habits developing the ability to live more mindfully? What is Jesus redeeming in my life, and what chaff is He casting into the fire?

Just a few thoughts over a now-lukewarm cup of coffee on a cold Minnesota morning in December. Blessings to you all.

Scott