Today I was asked two questions as a part of an Advent service. 1. How interruptable is your plan? and 2. Do you believe God is With us?

To number 1, I now say, what plan? There is so much carnage from my mapped out route that it isn't quite recognizable as a plan any longer. in fact, at this season of life, which appears to have lasted for years, i actually can't picture life "working" out or strolling along long enough to reconnect with a single uninterrupted loop. So, yes, my plan is highly interruptable.

And to number 2, i hear a song in my head that we have been singing...

"Lay me beside still waters, green pastures, and Ill find rest. i need your delight, father of life, hold me close, away from the bitter, out of the cold. I'll find my rest, I'll find my rest in you."

And my heart is loosened because I feel most assuredly, God is With Us. In fact, #1 is okay because #2 is real. Interrupt away because God is with me. I know that now in a way i haven't known before.

In early November, I went home to be with my parents for the start of mom's chemotherapy/radiation treatments and ending up attending two funerals (henceforward called life celebrations). I grieve so mightly with dear friends who awoke to find their four month old son had passed away in his sleep. And then two days later an incredible feisty mother, advocate, community leader passes away from mean ALS at only 66 yrs. old. i think i felt life had hit its quota on interruptions.

And with all this, i expect a tidal wave so enormous I will not resurface. Instead I witness beauty in devastation. I am ministered to by the dear, faithful, wailing parents of this sweet baby who still lift their heads to give thanks for his 172 days and to offer hope for baby Grant's well-being in God's arms. They were incredible in their adoration of their son's life and their moans from pain while still singing in memory Jesus Loves Me. A few days later, i see my beautiful friend whose face is weary from a 2 year battle with a mean disease on behalf of her mother, yet who also carried lightness and honor on her face. As if the battle did not defeat her or her mother, their was much to celebrate in the life lived big and in the hope for heaven's rest and wellness.

Its been a month and I am still stunned and processing all I saw in those 8 grief slamming days. Things that normally a community processes one at a time with years in between. And while there was anger for the lack of comprehension and timing, and there was moments of confusion about who this God is that could allow such loss and pain; there was frustration for all the words we didn't have for one another and the lack of control to fix or solve a thing. There was also this undeniable beauty. there was this raging hope. there was this soft but vast Spirit covering the steps before us. Covering the steps down the halls to greet the standing parents at the visitation for their baby, covering the shovels that dug up earth under a beautiful tree by a beloved church to spread ashes of this dear mother of my friend, covering the steps for dad, mom and i as she swallowed the first chemotherapy pills and put the mask over her face for radiation. We were not saved from the explosive interruption and harsh new realities, and also, we experienced moments of peace and rest as we grieved.

So I enter this Advent, markedly lambasted by the lack of plans working out, and yet capable of a new rest because I do believe Emmanuel has come, God is with us my friends. All i can hope is that regardless of the interruptions, you too may find that in new ways as you wait in this season. May you be so very familiar with His presence. Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel.