The table is set, the turkey awaits stuffing. The vegetables are prepared, the cranberry sauce ready. Beneath the tree the presents are wrapped and waiting for the household to stir.

And I sit in the quiet of this Christmas morning and breathe deeply in the peace, hope, love and joy that fills my heart, spilling over into the air around me.

Hark the herald, angels sing
Glory to a new born king

The sun has begun it ascent, the days are lengthening and the earth continues on its orbit, its path decreed billions of years ago in a cosmic blast that shook the universe to its very core and set our planet spinning.

And over 2000 years ago, a mother and father huddled together in a tiny stable and witnessed the birth of their child. The story of the Christ child’s birth has lived throughout the years. It touches all our hearts, Christian and non-Christian, believer and non-believer. No matter if we believe He came to earth to ‘save our souls from Satan’s power’, or if he was simply a powerful prophet, or just a great man whose story has survived the ages, His birth represents the power of love to create peace in the world and to restore our spirits as we celebrate the miracle of life.

Christmas is a time to celebrate. A time to rejoice, to dance in the light of day’s lengthening shadows, to sit in awe of a child in a manger. It is a time when we are connected in love to the miracle of one child’s birth long ago that reminds us, every year, that we too are miracles inspired by the act of love that ignites our journey of life – in all its limitless possibilities.

Last night, as I wrapped the final gifts and put the finishing touches to Christmas, I reflected on the meaning of Christmas and my spirit lifted. Sitting in my cozy living room, surrounded by twinkling lights and festive bows and crinkly wrapping paper, I felt connected to the millions of other parents, grandparents, sons and daughters, sisters and brothers, friends and lovers who wrapped and taped and lovingly placed gifts beneath a twinkling tree – a tree that we had decorated together with those we love as we shared in the joy of hanging each ornament, old and new, upon its fragrant boughs.

As I wrapped and hummed a Christmas melody (and sipped a glass of cheer!), I felt the power of Christmas surround me. As I placed a pretty bow upon each gift I thought about the person to whom I was giving and my heart was filled with love. In that love lay the true meaning of Christmas. It wasn’t in the gifts, or the giving. It didn’t lay in colourful disarray piled beneath the tree, but in the love that filled my heart as I thought about my daughters, C.C., family and friends whom I love so dearly and who mean the world to me and who create such meaning in my world.

What a miracle Christmas is! 2000 years ago a child was born and from His birth has grown this night where the world stops, and takes a collective breath as we join in a song of love, faith, hope and joy. Over 2000 years ago a child’s birth gave birth to my evening last night where I sat and felt the power of that moment touch me.

I sat and wrapped and took a deep soul-inspired breath and felt my heart expand in love. In that breath, I was connected by the circle of love into which I was born and which encircled my daughters as I embraced the miracle of their lives to change my life. For just as the Christchild was a gift of love for his parents, and ultimately the world, with my daughters’ births I was given the greatest gift of all — the awesome reminder that life is a miracle and each birth a precious gift of love; powerful, enduring, everlasting.

This Christmas, as I reflect upon my life, I am reminded, once again, of the power of love to heal, to make peace and to create miracles. And that is the true meaning of Christmas for me. A celebration of birth, of life, of love. A healing. An awakening. A miracle that wraps us all in a never-ending circle of love.

Whatever your celebration — Christmas, Hanukkah, Bodi day, the Fast of Ramadan, the ancient sabbat – or a family-centered gathering, a Blessed Holiday to each and everyone of you. May your spirits be light, your hearts full of love and may your world be filled with the limitless possibilities of the miracle of your life as you live each moment, filled with love, gratitude and joy.

This is Christmas Eve. In breathless anticipation we await the birth of a child. In breathless anticipation, we breathe into the possibility of hope, peace, love and joy for all the world to know and experience and be and feel.

We breathe.

One huge collective breath of humanity awakening to all that is possible when we let go of our differences and step fearlessly into the shared experience of this our human condition, alive and breathing on planet earth.

In silent awe, we take one huge collective inhale and draw in the magic of this moment unfolding. And, with one shared exhale we  open our hearts to the miracle of birth, the wonder of our lives, the magnificence of our being present in the world.

This is Christmas Eve. For some, it is Christmas already. For others, the sun has begun its ascent out of darkness into day. And for others, darkness still embraces the earth as we wait in breathless anticipation, the coming of the day.

We have journeyed far. We have traversed the distance, stepped timidly through the dark, leapt fearlessly across the night into day where we see, our eyes wide open, our arms flung wide apart, our spirits strong, that this, this place of holy expectation has given birth to all that is possible when we let go of fear and surrender joyfully to Love.

Our waiting is almost over. The moment draws near. The holy appears like a light of hope upon the horizon. Let us rejoice. Let us sing out Hallelujah! Hallelujah!

O Holy Night!

A Child is born, let us rejoice.

As you travel through your day, make room for the sacred. Make space for peace, hope, love and joy to consume you and devour you. Make time to pause, to stop the last minute preparations, to put down the ladle and the spoon, to let go of fear and anxiety and sadness and give space to the sacred. Sit with the ones you love and tell each of them, one by one as you look deeply into their eyes, “The gift I see in you, is….” and then share a gift of their essence in your life.

For me, the gift I see in you is your willingness to turn up here with me everyday and be present with me as we explore what it means to make a difference in our world.

We all make a difference. Together, our difference can change the world.

Namaste. Blessings to each of you. May this, the night before Christmas, be filled with peace, hope, love and joy.

The video below is a recording of O Holy Night from the Celtic Woman concert at Slane Castle in Ireland last year. You can hear and listen to the whole concert by clicking on this link:  http://youtu.be/Jga12Im8cvk

As you listen to their beautiful voices singing O Holy Night, let yourself rest, and fall back into that place where you soul knows the truth of why you were born here on earth. Your soul knows you are born to shine, to be a light of wonder, to be a brilliant spark of hope, peace, love and joy upon the earth, and breathe into the wonder of being you, in this moment, right now, magnificent, spectacular, divine, a miracle of life on earth.

Know how sometimes there’s someone you meet and you just know — we’ll be friends forever? Nan Robinson is one of those kind of people. We met 26 years ago when we were both pregnant with our second child and I was a newbie volunteer on the same Calgary Stampede committee she worked on. Nan was warm and welcoming and funny to boot!  A creative soul, Nan always shares her heart openly and willingly, making sure the whole world shines in the warmth of her love.

Nan, along with my friend Jane, is one of the reasons I’m alive today. When ‘the bad man’ was actively engaged in ensuring I disappeared from earth, Nan and Jane did not give up. They hounded the police to try to find us. They kept the light burning so that when I did find myself again outside of that abusive relationship,  I had a clear path to follow back home.

I am blessed in calling Nan my friend. I am blessed with her presence as a sister of my heart.

And today, Nan shares her brilliance as Guest Blogger. Please let her know how much you appreciate her delightful take on what it takes to create peace, hope, love and joy at Christmas. Leave a comment below and may all the wonders of the season fill your heart and world with peace, hope, love and joy!

The Gift of Gratitude

by Nan Robinson

I am ensconced in bed with a sore throat and a laptop and a steaming cup of Bengal Spice tea. A moment ago, it was three weeks until Christmas. Lots of time to get everything done, I thought. I’ll write Christmas cards this year, and sew fabric gift bags and polish the floors to a welcoming glow. I’ll wrap all the presents and trim the tree and steam clean the bedroom carpet. I’ll assemble the inherited Grandfather bed and lay the Grandma quilt lovingly over the top (after repairing the torn bits).

And then I blinked. And just like that, Christmas was six days away.

I have a tree . . . in a bucket in the front hall. I have a turkey . . . in the freezer. The gifts are purchased and assembled . . . unwrapped on the kitchen counters. I can’t find the Christmas cards. The borrowed carpet cleaner sits neglected in its box. The floors do not glow. And I am in bed with a sore throat.

And yet, I am grateful. I am grateful to be steady on the journey I started over a year ago. I am grateful to have two wonderful daughters, a mother and sisters and nieces and nephews and friends who encircle me with their love and support. It leaves me breathless with wonder and gratitude.

I am grateful to see the world and those around me with clear eyes and a calm heart. Calm is not a word that existed in my world. And now it does. I have gained in wisdom over the past months. Maybe I’m finally growing up. I guess it’s time. My instinct is always to share and let others see what I see. So here are a few of the things I now see:

 What other people think of me is none of my business.

 Don’t worry. Worrying is using your imagination to create things you don’t want.

 Expectations are pre-meditated resentments.

 You are good enough. You are (insert desired trait here) enough.

 Control is an illusion. I have no control over what happens around me. I can control only what I think, feel, say and do.

 What others think, feel, say and do is entirely about them. It has nothing to do with me. I am not responsible for their feelings and I cannot “fix” them.

 I am responsible for and have control over my attitudes, beliefs and feelings. Nobody else can “make me mad”. I choose how I feel about what happens around me.

 I am not nice to other people because other people are nice. I am nice to other people because I am nice.

It all seems so simple really. How did I not know these things before? Maybe I was just too busy to notice. Maybe knowing needs a place of calm to grow.

It will be a fine Christmas. Everything that really needs to get done will be done. And the rest doesn’t matter. Today I am choosing an attitude of gratitude.

There are so many heroes in this world. Ordinary people doing ordinary things that make an extraordinary difference. And, because this is the season of light, the time to celebrate the coming of the Chirstchild and the significance of his message of peace, hope, love and joy, I want to celebrate people of faith who walk the truth of their faith by creating a world of beauty, by sharing their gifts and talents, their hearts and love.

At the shelter where I used to work, there was never a week when one or two and even more faith groups came in to contribute. Some of the groups have been doing it for 5, 10, 20 years. They sponsor the food (that’s food for a minimum of 800 people a meal and on special occasions can be as high as 1200)

Like the B’nai Brith team who once a month sponsor a meal and come in to help cook and serve it. And the Tzu Chi Compassionate Relief group who buy cook and serve a meal every month. Their beautiful, peaceful hearts spread joy and love.

Suni is a man of deep faith. Every month, for at least 15 years, he organizes a group of Hindu to sponsor a meal and serve it up, all the while smiling and laughing with clients.

Wild Rose United Church were huge sponsors of the shelter. In fact, they were the original sponsors of the Arts Program I started while working there.

All the saints are represented from churches from the Anglican, Evangelical, Catholic, United, Baptist and many more coming in to make a difference.

And it’s not just at the Drop-In where I used to work that they help out. From Inn from the Cold, the Mustard Seed, AlphaHouse, Servants Anonymous, and all the agencies serving the homeless sector including the Calgary Homeless Foundation, they turn up and make a difference.

They are all heroes. They make a difference because they believe that the expression of their faith is best shared through being of service in and to the world. 

The great humanitarian, Albert Schweizer once said, “I don’t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.”

To be of service to the world is to live on purpose. In the Living an Evolutionary Life course I am taking, Andrew Cohen describes it as moving beyond personal growth to knowing that whatever you do, doing it in service of the evolution of consciousness is vital to creating a peaceful, loving world.

On Tuesday, I will be cooking up dinner both for family and friends at my home, as well as for the residents of The Madison. At The Madison, I’ll be joined by several people who have come forward to say, “How can I help? What can I do?”  One young woman, Amanda, who I had the pleasure of working with at Calgary Counselling Centre offered to help and said, “I’m Jewish. We don’t celebrate Christmas in our house. I can bring friends too!”

I am so blessed.

People are still emailing to ask, What can I get on the wishlist? What do you need?

You are all heroes.

Thank you.

From my heart to yours, may your celebration, be it Christmas or Kwanzaa or Hanukkah or anything else be filled with hope, peace, love and joy. May your world be merry and bright.

And… because I love to share my ‘finds’, I am sharing this beautiful version of “Il est ne le divin enfant”, a French Christmas carol from the 1800s. I remember my mother singing this when I was a little girl. One of my favourites….

In this, the third week of Advent, on this the first day of the light returning and the ‘new calendar’ opening, anticipation hangs in the air, glittering with the shimmer of a thousand candles glowing in the night.

I feel it. I feel the desire to move out of the darkness. To move away from that place of fear and loathing, of shame and blaming ‘the other’ for the pain I have felt, the hurt I have known, the sorrow I have carried.

This is the place of renewal. Of beginning again. Of do-overs and let’s do. This is the place of letting the news of The Christchild’s arrival be heard above the cries of ‘never again’, ‘no more war, poverty, abuse, anguish’ No more killing one another. No more hurting the ones we love. No more hurting each other. No more.

This is the place where the sun’s rays break through the dawn and I feel myself hopeful, expectant, excited about the new day dawning amidst the darkness of the old.

I am not alone, I tell myself. In am not alone in my waiting, in my expectation of the holy of holy nights when hope shall spring forth in a world of peace, Love and joy.

I am not alone.

And still, my heart is heavy. Our world so sorely in need of peace continues to gravitate towards pain, war, suffering, killing. Our world so desperately in need of quiet rages in the agony of death.

Yet I am hopeful.

O Come! O Come! Emmanuel.

O Come! Bring forth peace, hope, love and joy.

Bring it on oh holy one. Bring it on.

I am ready. I am willing. I am open to peace, hope, love and joy.

I am ready.

And still.

Frustration rises. Fear edges into my awakening.

Can we not see? Can we not know that we are killing one another with our guns and ammunition. Our insistence that we are right, they are wrong. Our fighting for ground. For religious right and social elevation.

Can we not see?

Come, thou long-expected Jesus,
born to set thy people free;
from our fears and sins release us,
let us find our rest in thee.   (Come Thou Long… Advent hymn attributed to Charles Wesley)

And I am reminded. Peace begins with me. I cannot make peace when I hold onto anger, fear, frustration. I cannot be peace when I make war against the world around me.

And I breathe.

And hear the invitation of a simple song to deepen my understanding of this season and its promise of peace, hope, love and joy.

I breathe and feel its truth calling to my heart, this universal truth that speaks of our humanity — we are born in the reflection of God, Yahweh, Allah. We embody God’s greatness, him or her or it – it doesn’t matter what word we use for God. God does not seek our words. The Divine does not search for our hearts. He, she, it… knows our Heart of hearts. Our truth of truth. She knows our beauty. We are His reflection. We are Her heart.

We are limitless in our possibilities. We are magnificent. We are holy. We are divine.

This is not ‘God’ as limited by my language, This is God unlimited — The Divine. Creator. Yahweh. Allah. Buddha. Almighty Father. King of Kings. Spirit, Lord.

In this time of waiting, in this time of darkness becoming light, I let go of the words and step into that place where I and you and we are embodied in the essence of our humanity, connected through this spirit that embraces all of us in wonder as we stand in Love.

In love, I breathe into my divine essence.

In love, I come home to my heart. I come home to Thee.

In love, I hear the Divine calling of my name as I embrace the beauty and the wonder of my human condition, this condition I share with each of you – We are the Divine expression of God’s amazing grace.

Let’s live it up for all we’re worth.

Let’s celebrate the return of the light. The coming of the child. The opening of possibility. Our awakening to Peace. Hope. Love and Joy.

************************************************
This is one of my favourite Advent Carols and Enya’s version is hauntingly beautiful.

Every so often the spirit moves me, (and no, I don’t mean the liquid kind) it’s more the okay, I’m taking myself way too seriously here, I’ve got to fill myself with holiday cheer.

This morning was just such a time.

Every Christmas, my daughters and their friend Christie, have a tradition where they inveigle one unsuspecting male dinner guest to dress up in drag and lip sync to Santa Baby. (Oh the pictures and video I could share — remember guys, I can be bought).

This Christmas, a young friend of C.C.’s song, Taylor, has offered to volunteer himself — imagine, a willing supplicant all lined up for the dastardly deed.

One year, I had retreated to the bedroom when the doorbell rang and as all the guests were busy hooting and hollering over my daughter Liseanne in slinky leotard and her erstwhile dance partner, Cody, equally attired in glittery, slinky fashion, dancing to Flashdance, no one was answering the door.

I finally succumbed to the bells’ insistent ring and what did I find? Nope. No shiny reindeer. just three police men.

For some reason, that evening — which really was filled with laughter and good times and fun — came back into my mind this morning. Must be the holiday season taking over my normally sympathetic, I must make a difference in the world kind of thinking to remind me of the most important rule of all — Don’t take yourself so seriously!

And thus…. the following was born.

Twas the night…. not really.

With less than a week to ole’ Christmas
and all through my house
the creatures are dreaming of the arrival of Mr. Claus

Ellie she lays by the fire and snores
her mind all clogged up with blueberry cake mix and more
Marley he roams through the hallways at night
searching for mice who might make his delight

and me, I’m a wrappin’ and decoratin’ like a dervish
I’m makin’ even the critters all panicky and nervous.

There’s so much not done (and so much to do)
I think I might just have to stop
and have a wee sip, or two
I rush to the liquor cabinet and fling open the door
When what to my wondering eyes do I see
ten bottles stand empty, dead soldiers oh dear me.
I drop to my knees
and cry out in despair
oh dancer, oh dasher, oh prancer you vixen
you reindeer you’ve stolen all my holiday fixens’

Ellie opens one eye and stares with dismay
to see her master crying over
a bottle of spilt Tangueray
and Marley the wise cat
slithers out through the door
he’s not getting closer
to his mistress and a bottle of Glen Morangie no more

I sigh and I fall to the floor in a mess
to see that there’s no liquor to share with my guests
I wonder and I ponder what’s happened to it all
and then I remember that night I vaguely recall
it wasn’t the reindeer
or even jolly ‘Ole St Nick
there’s only one reason, says the voice in my head
that the cupboard is empty
and there’s no cheer to sip.

Remember that party last boxing day night
when you opened the door with such expectant delight
to find no cute elf, no wise men, not even a ghost
instead just three police men like sturdy posts
holding out a pink slip as they said with elan
you’re raisin’such a racket you can be heard all across the land

you begged them for mercy, I’m sorry you said
too bad, they responded
this party is dead
stop all the dancing, you’ve taken it too far,
or off you’ll be driven in our blue and white car
and we’ll throw away the key with you behind bars

Remember you closed the front door on their backs
your eyes they filled up, your shoulders they slacked
okay my friends, that’s enough for tonight,
I think this tradition needs to take a winter’s nap
no more Santa Baby, no more men all dressed in drag
no more dancing and hollering
no more acting as if you’re all at a stag

but wait, someone hollered, their eyes shiny and bright
was that Santa dressed up in a blonde wig and tights?

let’s stop what we’re doing he said kind of slurrish
as he pulled off his garland of feathers with a flourish
let’s get down to business
of cleaning out the bar
let’s drink til we’re finished
let’s drink til we’re done
let’s drink til the bottles are empty of the last drop of rum

and with that you sprang up and lifted a bottle of cheer
and exclaimed in a loud voice, were you slurring my dear?
come Absolut, come Glen Fiddich, come Drambuie, come Bols
On Gordon’s, on Tequila, Grand Marnier, and Calvados

And without a word, you went straight to work
and filled your gullet, you turned into such a jerk
and laying a finger at the side of your nose,
you finished off even the homemade brew from Uncle Joe

and as each drop was consumed that wet your ole’ whistle
you flew up to the roof like the down on a thistle
and called out to everyone as you passed out of sight
Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Christmas-in-a-box

I sat and wrapped presents last night. I sat in my all decked out for Christmas living room and wrapped and sipped a glass of good cheer and played my favourite Christmas tunes on the stereo. Ellie, slept at my feet while Marley, the Great Cat, lay curled up beneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. It’s possible he slept with one eye open waiting for me to leave the room so he could leap up and swat a glass ball or two, but I was feeling charitable so I chose to believe he was simply sleeping and not dreaming about toying with the decorations.

In the quiet and peacefulness of my home, my world was all wrapped up in love as I packed Christmas-in-a-box to send out to my daughter in Vancouver. C.C., who drove back to Saskatoon for a few days earlier this week, joined me on Skype and we chatted as I wrapped, events of the day, the upcoming weekend and all the festivities we’ve got scheduled.

And then I realized I’d forgotten something to make the box more special. I quickly tucked the chocolate and candy away (Ellie is no fool, she can sniff out chocolate like a divining rod reaching for water) and dashed off to the store. I know. I know. Going to the mall the week before Christmas could be considered insane, but Chapters wasn’t as busy as I expected. A quick dash into the store, a grab of one, no two, no make that three ‘must haves’, alright five extra items, and as quick as Santa flying across the sky, I dashed back into my car, wiggled my nose and I was home.

And that’s when I discovered my mistake.

The first sign of trouble is always when Ellie is waiting at the top of the stairs at the back door when I enter. Her normal routine is to leisurely saunter into the kitchen when I return home (she’s getting old and likes to take her time to come and greet me). But, when she’s standing there and makes a dash through the open door without even a ‘hello, got any treats?’ kind of welcome, I know, mischief is afoot.

I began the search for evidence of her misdeed and found it strewn across our bedroom rug. Yes, I’d put away the chocolate and candy. But, I’d forgotten about the package of Gluten free gourmet wild blueberry pound cake mix I’d bought for C.C.’s daughter’s stocking…

I didn’t even have to step into the bedroom to see what she’d been up to in the half hour I’d been away. Like the fallout from a bomb, a path of finely sifted flour and sugar lay in all its powdery glory from the doorway to Ellie’s mat at the end of our bed. Fortunately, she obviously doesn’t like dried wild blueberries. The package lay discarded, unopened. It’s possible, she just hadn’t gotten to the blueberries before being interrupted by my return, but I’ll go with dried berries are not to her taste (remember I am feeling a wee bit charitable). But the rest of the packaging. Oh my. It lay torn to shreds amidst the powdered mix.

I sighed. I might even have cursed a teensie, weensie bit and then I hauled out the vacuum and cleaned up the mess.

Ellie stayed outside. Even when I went to call her to make sure she wasn’t sick from all that sugary excess, she lay at the far, far corner of the backyard, her eyes big and glittering in the dark.

That girl, she knows when she’s done wrong!

But in the end, it was all good.

When I had finished vacuuming in the bedroom, I moved to my office, and then the kitchen and then… well, an hour later, it was as if the elves of cleaning up before Christmas had descended upon my home. The floors were all vacuumed, surfaces dusted and I was feeling mighty sanctimonious. Take that you fiends of “Who me? Ready for Christmas? I finished my shopping in July.”

I’m ready! Okay, well almost ready. There’s not that much left to prepare the house for Christmas. Let’s see. Where’s my list? Oh right. I’ve got to make a list, finish my wrapping, make the four dozen or so cookies I still haven’t baked, put out the rest of the Christmas decorations, write my cards, stuff the stockings, finish my shopping, make those gifts I’d planned on making, get together with those friends I’d planned on seeing, order my fresh, free range turkey, stock the bar, take out the recycling, put up the outside Christmas lights, make the Christmas cake (no. scratch that. too late, recipe says begin 6 weeks in advance — yes! one less thing to do!)

Ah yes, The joys of getting ready for Christmas.

Not much of a difference in my day yesterday. But other people did make a difference. A friend called from the mall to tell me he’d bought the size 34/30 dress pants. And other amazing folk sent me emails to tell me they’d cross off items on the Veterans Wishlist! Christmas at the Madison is coming together with grace and ease.

As to my list. Oh well. There’s always next year.

At least the vacuuming is done and Christmas-in-a-box is all ready to go!

The first time I realized how many veterans were homeless in our city it was Remembrance Day 2006. I’d been working at the shelter for six months and just before November 11th was chatting with one of the clients, Peter* about the upcoming Remembrance Day ceremonies. Peter had served in the military for 15 years, some of that time spent in Korea. In his 70s Peter had been living at the shelter for almost a year. He was not happy.

“I hate it,” he said. “Sure, I’m grateful but I’m 75 years old. I shouldn’t be here.”

His arrival at the shelter was the fallout from Calgary’s then boom time. A small 16 unit apartment building set for the demolition team. A building manager who ‘forgot’ to tell the residents about the wrecking ball about to descend upon their homes when the eviction notices arrived. He pocketed their last months rent and disappeared the same day, three months later, when the tenants were rousted with banging on their doors and notice that they needed to vacate within 72 hours.

Peter didn’t have money saved for a new abode and in Calgary’s hot rental market, couldn’t afford the price of an apartment on his own. Everything he owned went into storage and Peter arrived at the shelter.

“I’d just really like to get my medals out of storage for the Remembrance Day ceremonies,” he told me. I couldn’t get his medals but I could get him to the Cenotaph for the ceremonies and so, on that first Remembrance Day that I worked at the shelter, I drove three veterans to the park where an unnamed soldier stands, and a trumpeter played taps and hundreds of Calgarians gathered together to pay their respects.

There were many other encounters with veterans after that. I helped set-up a meeting with the then Veterans Advocate, Col Pat Stogryn. About 15 men turned up for that one and sitting in the room, listening to their stories, my heart ached to hear of broken pride and dreams, of fear and isolation, loneliness and desperation. Staff started looking out for veterans, Detective John Langford from Calgary Police kept watch for them on the streets and slowly momentum gathered for what would eventually become The Madison. Owned by the Calgary Homeless Foundation (CHF) and operated by Alpha House,  The Madison was the inspiration of John Langford and former CEO of the CHF, Tim Richter. It is a lovely 15 unit apartment building in the Beltline District that offers supported living and 24/7 support for formerly homeless veterans.

This Christmas we’re creating Christmas at The Madison. Last Wednesday night, my youngest daughter and two friends went down to decorate the tree and to interview residents as to their Christmas wishes. The tenants came into the common room, helped string decorations, shared stories, gave the girls tours of the building and their apartments and shared their pride in having a place to call home. It was touching, moving, achingly beautiful my daughter told me. “We really felt welcomed,” she said. “Like this was their home and we were their guests and they wanted to make sure we felt comfortable.”

This is an invitation to become part of the magic of Christmas at The Madison.

If you click this link — you’ll be taken to the PDF of details of the Madison Wishlist and how you can become involved.

Namaste.

PS — and to finish Peter’s story — I saw him a couple of years ago after he’d moved out of the shelter. He was happy. Recently married, he and his new wife were living in a one-bedroom apartment just outside of downtown. When I saw him, he looked so different. He was taking care of himself. Cleanly dressed. A jaunt to his step, a smile on his face. He was in the grocery store buying food for dinner.  He showed me the food in his basket. Shared how wonderful it felt to be able to choose his food, make his own meals, cook for his wife.  “I’m grateful that place was there [the shelter],” the wiry 75+ year-old told me. “But I wouldn’t wish being there on anyone.”  We chatted for a bit, he showed me a picture of his wife. I gave him a hug and we parted, both of us smiling over our shared connection.

*not his real name.

And the world continues to turn, the sun continues to rise and set, the moon to wax and wane.

And still, we wait.

We wait for the sun’s return, for a Son to be born, for peace, hope, love and joy to descend upon all mankind.

We wait and as we wait, our patience grows thin. We rush about, fighting crowds and traffic. We wait in endless check-out lines to buy one more gift, to put one more check-mark or scratch off one more item on the list that seems to grow longer as the days grow shorter.

And as we wait, our minds wander to thoughts of those who are no longer here. We remember their laughter. Their sweet voices. Their glowing eyes. Their dancing steps. And our heart yearns to hold them near, to feel their gentle touch, to see their beautiful smile.

And amidst the glitter and bows, the twinkling lights and crinkly paper, amongst the holiday cheer and ho, ho, ho’s, we wonder, how can this be? How can they be gone when the magic and wonder and mystery of Christmas is all around? How can they not be here when as predictably as Christmas decorations appearing in the mall the day after Halloween, we counted upon their presence to remind us that love is all around, love is all we need at this special time of year, at any time of year.

How can this be?

And so this is Christmas.

Our heart’s know what our mind does not want to believe. Time has turned, days have passed, weeks, months, years have slipped by. And in their passing, those who were once held fast to this time and place have passed on and nothing we do or say or wish can bring them back. We cannot touch them, hear them, feel them. We cannot bring them back and so must let them go so that we can listen for our hearts calling us to awaken from these long dark nights of winter.

For in their passing, life goes on, our hearts keep beating, our bodies keep doing and our minds keep remembering Christmases past as we slip into this moment to hear life  reminding us to smile, to laugh and sing and call out to passers-by, greetings of the season, wishes of the New Year to come.

This is the time of endless nights growing darker. Of day’s light growing weaker in the soft approach of winter solstice, in the coming light of the child’s birth drawing near.

This is a time of waiting for the darkness to pass. Of remembering the day will come beyond the night where we will stand once again beneath a glowing sun and feel the welcoming warmth of its soft embrace reminding us to awaken.

This is a time of waiting and remembering.

************

As I lit the third candle in my advent wreath last night, I whispered aloud the names of those whose lives were lost at Sandy Hook Elementary School. I struggled to include the name of Adam Lanza, 20. And yet, I knew I must, for he was lost, even before he stepped through the doors of the school, he was lost. And so I whispered a prayer for all those who have taken life through violence and for all those who have lost their lives at the hands of another. For the only way I know to be at peace with what is lost, is to move into that which would hold me separate from remembering there is always peace, hope, love and joy when I surrender and fall into grace.

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Olivia Engel, 6

Ana M. Marquez-Greene, 6

Dylan Hockley, 6

Madeleine F. Hsu, 6

Catherine V. Hubbard, 6

Jesse Lewis, 6

James Mattioli, 6

Emilie Parker, 6

Jack Pinto, 6,

Noah Pozner, 6

Caroline Previdi, 6

Jessica Rekos, 6

Avielle Richman, 6

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Allison N. Wyatt, 6

Daniel Barden, 7

Josephine Gay, 7

Chase Kowalski, 7

Grace McDonnell, 7

Victoria Soto, 27

Rachel Davino, 29

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Dawn Hochsprung, 47

Nancy Lanza, 52

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

Mary Sherlach, 56

To love is to feel your death

 Thank you Maureen Doallas for the names of the children and their teachers and the poem citation. (Writing Without Paper)

Misifusa’s comments reminded me to paste in the video for John Lennon’s “War is Over”. Watching this video I am reminded again — we must make peace.

As we continue to reel from the events in Newtown, Ct., and events around the world where innocent children, women and men die senselessly under acts of violence, I have chosen to not post a guest blog today but rather, to share an idea, and a video.

The idea comes from Misifusa’s blog today, ‘Tis the Season to Send Out Love. It is an invitation to send a card to the Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut. Misifusa is a cancer survivor and shares her love and brilliance with the world everyday through words, and action. Today, she invites people to send a card by sharing the story of the impact cards had on her when first she was diagnosed with cancer — and then, she makes the act of sending the card easy.

Please, do visit Misifusa’s blog and take the simple, easy steps she gives through the link she’s included. It is a powerful step and so easy to take and won’t cost you anything other than a few moments of time.

The second thing I’m sharing is a video my sister Jackie, sent me yesterday. It is The Christmas Story told by children from St Paul’s Church in New Zealand.

When I watched this video yesterday, I cried. the children are so sweet and innocent and filled with love and joy and honesty and hope and possibility. And I thought of the children in Newtown who’s story ended on Friday at the hands of a young man who was once a child with a story of promise, just like theirs,  yet whose story has ended with such horror and tragedy he will always be remembered as a killer, a monster, or as so many headlines label, evil.

So sad.

And so, I share this video to remind each of us that every life is precious, every life beautiful. That children are miracles of life, jut as we each are. And, to let each of us smile and wonder at the beauty and joy of these children as they share a story that is 2,000 years old. A story that has shaped the course of our western world, a story that has touched the hearts and lives of billions of people around the world as we share in its promise of peace, hope, love and joy to the world.

May we know peace.