I still need to bring the pumpkins in from the front steps, but yesterday I took a little time to dig out Navitity sets and array the living-room mantel in preparation.
Mary and Joseph journeying under the watch of Saint Francis, which seems appropriate.
Shepherd watching his flock by night, all seated on the ground.
The Three Kings, confronting yet again the seemingly insurmountable annual obstacle: they are facing one way, but their camel is facing the other way. How will they make progress? It will take a miracle.
Sunday Mass attire for the day: my gray Sierra, my 50-cent thrift-store longline blazer (looking very purple in this light), and my old linen scarf, with Snag tights in "Rainy Day" and camel boots.
Off we go in just a few minutes. The kids need to be at the airport at four, so this day will jog by in a hurry, I fear. It's been so good having them home; it's hard to put them on the plane to go back, except that then I can tidy up to welcome them again, and that's good in its own way.
Last night's Advent Eve dinner table, preparatory to lighting the first candle:
We didn't do any particularly special "Liturgical New Year's Eve" celebrating, but my husband cooked burgers on the grill, and we made merry around the table together, and it was good. Now, again, onward, into the mystery of the Incarnation and all that that means, for time past, present, and future, even unto its end, and the opening-out for us of joyful eternity.
I'm reminded, too, of this poem of mine, which appeared in First Things two years ago, and makes a reappearance today on the Instagram account Real Poets Daily.