I have been spending most of this season of Advent looking for a new home.

As my time as rector of St. Mary’s has come to an end, the Rectory needs to be readied for someone new.  In this time of transition, I have generously and graciously been allowed to live in the Rectory.  But I know that it is quickly becoming no longer my home.

Since my new office will be downtown, I’ve been searching with my realtor for a place closer into town. I have been surprised how exhausting it’s been–not the Sabbath I expected December to be.  You see, the story I’d made up in my head was that God had a fabulous new place already prepared for me (which I still believe is true) and that the process would go much more quickly and easily.  Now why in the world did I think this pilgrimage would be different than all of the others of my life?

My new job with the Diocese will be ever so much more different than being a rector of a parish.  I’m imagining the kind of home that will fit my new way of life.  I first had to decide whether to rent or buy.  Since I’ve been in packing and moving mode for the last two years, I’m ready to pack one last time and unpack for a good long while.  I’m going to buy and abide.

Part of the challenge of becoming set on my new home is that I’ve spent the last two years reimagining the Rectory and that house, after two renovations in two years, thanks to flood water, is as close to perfect, for me, as any place I’ve ever lived.  Oh yes.  Except that it is prone to flooding.

I’ve had to decide what is essential in my new home, and what I can do without.  As I’ve driven from place to place, walked up and down stairs and opened doors, this has changed.

I’m also aware that any change involves grief.  It also involves trust.

And so I’ll sing the O Antiphon for this 19th day of December:

O come, O Branch of Jesse’s stem,
unto your own and rescue them!
From depths of hell your people save,
and give them victory o’er the grave.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Immanuel
shall come to you, O Israel.

Today I’ll rejoice that I have a home.

Today I’ll rejoice that I have the resources (money, friends, wise counselors) to find a new home.

I’ll remember what Immanuel means…God is with us.

I’ll remember what Israel means…..God prevails.

Gracious!  Holy Immanuel and Holy Israel.  The Advent unexpected pilgrimage continues.  God with.  God prevailing.

Being on a Sabbatical in the season of Advent means

Letting the sunrise be my wake up call on a Sunday morning

Having space to visit a friend who is dying

Not hurrying anywhere, and so puttering my way back home

Reading books with abandon

Making a Mickey Cake on a Sunday morning because I feel like it

Having a whole day unfold before me to do as God and I will

I missed sharing the beginning of Advent with my St. Mary’s family. With the ear of my heart, I heard the music of the community. With the eyes of my heart, I saw the nearly bare manger and the new Advent wreath. As are so many things this year, it was bitter sweet.

I decided to create something new from things I already have. I had seen the idea of a living Advent wreath planted with succulents. I mulled the idea around in my head and used what was available to make my own.

I emptied a pot from outside (carefully moving the plants that were already in it). I gathered small live plants from around the house for the greenery:

A small plant that I’ve kept alive for probably nearly three decades. It came from a piece that broke off and was left behind on the floor of our car. The plant was a gift from my then husband and me to our sister-in-law as a thank you for hosting Thanksgiving.

A jade plant that has grown from a small branch that had fallen on the floor of an Episcopal Church in Washington. I had attended worship there on an early weekday morning during a long ago vacation. Later that day my traveling friend and I would receive the news that her mother-in-law had died. I almost lost the plant in the Tax Day Flood, but was able to nurse it back to health.

Two plants from an arrangement given to me by my son and daughter-in-law to thank me for caring for my newborn grandson, Jonas.

A new plant, given by a dear St. Mary’s parishioner, as a goodbye gift.

After Christmas, I’ll remove the candles and hope to keep this arrangement of plants alive until next year. It will be one of the items that will move into my not yet found new home. In the year ahead, if one or another of the plant dies, I know there will be something new that can grow in that no longer empty spot.

Advent at the Monastery began with Saturday night Vespers. One blue candle was lit, and we began to pray.

It is now the morning of the first Sunday of the new Church year. I walked in the dark and the rain to the Monastery from the guest house for coffee and silence before Matins and then Eucharist.

My first spoken words this morning will be words of praise to God. After worship our silence will be over.

The #Adventword for this day is journey.

It has been good. It is good. It will be good.