coloring books and crayons

We stood in the hallway of the church, me heading to my office to demystify myself, she putting on her coat, getting ready to head out into the bitter day. So, we had one of those hallway conversations folks often have, as their minds are traveling in one direction, hoping this brief stop wouldn't slow either one of us down too much.

I asked how her Christmas had been and she asked about mine. We had gone up to Columbus to see Teddy, to go out for our now Traditional (once is a happenstance, twice becomes a tradition in my denomination) Christmas repast at the Waffle House, indulging in the major food group known as sugar. She had spent the holy day with her cat, but was off to a relative's house in the afternoon where she would be immersed in a pool of 40 some relatives.

We both bemoaned the commercialism, the overindulgence of children and grandchildren who end up with a ton of presents, the toys that get broken so quickly and easily and end up out on the curb the week after the holiday. And we both recalled how, as kids, sometimes the biggest excitement in the neighborhood came when someone had a major appliance delivered to their house, and the empty cardboard box was set out by the curb, and was immediately turned into an airplane, pirate ship, mansion, truck, whatever and wherever our imagination would take us.

That's when she mentioned the fact that when she was growing up, in a family with 12 kids in it, there were no individual gifts presented at Christmas, but there was a group gift for all the kids - a board game, a puzzle, a book, something to be shared by all. And then, with the memory glittering in her eyes, she told me about the Christmas when her six sisters were all adults, and she gave each of them her very own coloring book and box of crayons. A gift that they would never have had as a child, a memory they shared from their childhood, a surprise they never expected now that they were all grown up. "Oh, I wish you could have seen the looks on their faces when they opened those presents," she said.

No need; I saw her face.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Christmas Day

Please read Luke 2:6-7

you could have

come

as warrior, ready

to take us on

one at a time

or en masse . . .

you could have

come

a whirlwind

swirling, twirling,

twisting around us,

flinging us up into

the air . . .

you could have

come

with a bag of

chocolates

in one hand

and

a time-out chair

in the other;

you came

a tiny

vulnerable

baby

lungs screaming for

life,

fingers grasping for

something to hold onto,

your whole being

completely depending on

us (!) to

feed you

change you

clothe you

protect you

love you

and we were

gob-smacked.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Christmas Eve

Please read Luke 11:5-13

in the rustle of children

shaking presents,

in the hustle of kittens

scrambling up trees,

you stealthily tunnel

your way under the

flooring;

tossing all the traditional

marches in the shredder,

you collaborate

with the choir director,

composing a simple

oratorio for this night,

stressing that 'the tenors

are going to have to

reach that high note'

cup in hand,

you worm your way

through the office party,

touching us on the

shoulder,

subtly cracking the

combinations

of our frozen hearts,

to slip the still warm

loaves inside.

come,

Saboteur of our weary years,

bringing the Gift we need.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Fourth Wednesday of Advent

Please read Psalm 139:1-18

not a problem!

i am doing great!

everything is smashing!

life is just one ! after another !

count on it!

yet,

in the night,

when the shadows creak

across the floor

and the ice pelts the windows

like fingernails tap

tap, tapping,

those pesky ?s

reach out from

under the bed

pulling the warm comfort

off of me;

i've pulled myself

up by the flip flops,

i've climbed the highest

obstacles,

i've faced down every

one who got in my way,

i've won the race

fini

end of story

.

but sometimes

life comes to a full

stop,

the glyphs mount up

diacritically

spacing my life out

until there seems

to be no space left

for me to breathe . . .

so come,

Ink Slinger,

your fingers smudged

for all time

as you write our names

in your book.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Fourth Tuesday of Advent

Please read John 1:1-14

one

word

to gather up

all our silence,

weaving our hopes, our fears,

our longings, our ponderings

into a carol of wonder;

one

light

to pierce the shadowed

corners

of our lives, revealing

the One who sits quietly

in the rocker,

eager to gather us up

and tell us the end

of the story;

one

grace

to turn us away

from the steamy

ugliness

we glimpse in the

mirror each morning,

so we can see

face-to-face

our twin;

come,

One and Only,

come for us all.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Fourth Monday of Advent

Please read John 10:7-16

you come,

removing that rusted

hanging-on-one-hinge

gate

which keeps any one

from stealing our heart,

and replace it with

you,

who opens

our way to God;

you come,

not for a fancy salary,

a gold watch or

a stock-portfolioed pension

but out of love,

your gentle goodness

stretched out on

roughened wood

so we might be

marked

as your beloved;

you come,

not for a precious few

but for all the

impoverished;

not just for those who know better

but for all the

forgotten;

not just for the insiders,

but for all the outcast,

the oppressed,

the searchers;

not just for those who never stray,

but for all who

have taken different

paths.

so come,

Tender Shepherd,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Fourth Sunday of Advent

Please read Micah 5:2-5a

you would come,

caulk gun in hand

to mend all the cracks

in our lives;

you would come,

flashlight in hand

to search all the nooks

and crannies

where the marginalized

have been shoved

out of sight,

out of mind;

you would come,

bouquet in hand

to freshen our hopes

with the sweet aroma

of peace;

you would come,

bolt cutters in hand

to snap open

the padlocks we

have secured to

our gated hearts;

you will come,

Babe of Bethlehem,

to take us by the hand

and lead us home?

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Saturday of Advent

Please read Psalm 121

removing our shoes

ready to slip into

our old, scuffed slippers

of comfortable apathy,

may we be consumed

by the white fire of

compassion

which dawned in the

Christmas sky;

slip-sliding down

the stony slopes of

heaped-with-failed-promises

mountains of sin,

may we be caught

by the Word of love,

cradled forever in

the manger of grace;

wandering down the

streets of exiled loneliness,

taunted by those who

laugh as we cling tightly

to the heirloom of trust

handed down to us,

may we be gathered

up in your arms of hope,

carried to worship

the newborn Child.

come,

Keeper of our hearts,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Friday of Advent

Please read Luke 2:46-55

stuck in the middle

of the paper this morning,

the slicks announce

another black friday sale

(the third this shopping

season, i think, but

who knows),

while the front page tells

of a single father searching

for coats to protect his kids

from poverty's chill;

the tour buses are packed

taking folks from the visitor's

center right up to the very

edge

of that grand canyon

which pushes the have-a-lots

and the have-nots

further and further

from one another;

more children die each day

from starvation

than from any act of

terrorism,

but we continue to gorge

ourselves at fear's table,

piling more and more

security on our plates;

so come,

Mary's Son,

come

using your mother's song

to transform our lives,

as surely as it did yours.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Thursday of Advent

Please read John 15:12-17

each day as

i watch the two little

girls wander down the street,

their heads so close

their hair seems braided together,

their hopes conjoined

as they whisper their deepest

souls to each other,

i long for you

so come

to clean the silliness-stained

glass of my life

til i become utterly

transparent to

you;

come

gathering up the ashes

of my tears

pottering them into

the apple of your

eye;

come

turning me outside-in

inside-out

so you can write

your name

on my heart;

come,

Anam Cara,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Wednesday of Advent

Please read John 15:9-11

watching Matthew

writing down every word,

you gently whisper

in his ear,

'don't forget i said

there is a sin line between

heaven and hell';

handing around the box

of hanukkah crackers,

you hold one out to Bart,

and fall down laughing at

the look on his face

when it popped into

a shower

of stars;

you spent all morning

in the kitchen measuring, stirring,

baking the cake,

so you could watch

the epiphany of your friends,

as they tore into

their slices, hoping

to find one of the gifts

of frankincense, gold

and myrrh;

gathering the disciples around,

you sat down and said,

'a Pharisee, a scribe, and a

Sadducee walk into

a bar . . .'

come,

Court Jester,

come to take our hands

and make our dance of

joy complete.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Tuesday of Advent

Please read Psalm 1

as the foam-crested waves

played tag,

running up to my toes

clenched tightly in the sand,

and then dashing back,

i stood mesmerized,

looking around for

someone

to take my hand and

give me courage;

so come.

sitting in the

tub,

my little boat bobbing

on the knee induced waves

i would listen longingly

for footsteps to come

down the hall,

book in hand

to read me a

sherlock story;

so come.

scraped, stacked, soaked

i swish the cloth over,

under, and around each dish,

pan, and utensil,

ducking them under the

rinsing waves before

lining them up in the

drainer in proper order,

wondering if someone

will come, take the towel

off my shoulder, saying,

'let me give you a hand';

so come,

Living Water,

come to be with, in,

around, over, through me,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Monday of Advent

Please read Luke 22:14-20

come,

Grain of gentleness,

feed us on that simple

loaf made glory by

the yeast of your love,

so we might laugh

in delight

as we gorge ourselves

on your joy;

come,

Grail of grace:

fill our empty souls

with that spirit of

generosity and spontaneity,

so we might pour

ourselves out for those

who sit beside the

dusty wells of hope;

come,

Chief Cook and Bottle Washer:

pushing tables together

so each may have a seat,

bringing out dish after dish

of wondrous delight,

yelling back over your

shoulder,

'better put another fatted calf

on the grill!'

come!

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Third Sunday of Advent

Please read Isaiah 12:2-6; Zephaniah 3:14-20

yesterday

(and every yesterday it seems)

folks stood patiently in line

numbers clutched in their

prosecutorial hands,

eager to take their turn

making it quite clear

all the mistakes made

(at least to this point in my life),

all those things I forgot

to do (i swear they were on

my list!),

all that accountability that

doesn't seem to add up right;

but on that day

you will walk down the line

high-fiving each person

as you slyly slip their

judgments out of their hands,

crumpling them up

and tossing them behind you.

on this day

we limp through,

our weary, sore soles

seeming to find each

sharp-edged pebble

poured out on the path

in front of us

by the banes of our

lives;

but on that day

you will come,

tearing your baby quilt

into long strips,

dipping them into

the cool waters of

Grace's well,

swaddling our tender

souls.

tomorrow,

we will once again

scan the horizon

waiting to catch

a glimpse of

Catastrophe

as it edges ever closer,

its cataclysmic jaws

opening and closing,

longing to devour our

hope;

but on that day

you will come,

carrying a picnic basket

loaded with bread

and wine,

spreading a blanket

broad enough for all of us,

pulling out your

harmonica

to play us the songs of

eternity.

come,

Dayspring,

] come the day.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Saturday of Advent

Please read Psalm 80:1-3, 17-19

Come, God-with-us:

who braves our rejection and hurt,

to show your love and acceptance.

Come, God-for-us:

who whispers

in our ears

that we -

each of us -

are your Beloved children.

Come, God-under-us:

who cradles us

in arms that never grow weary;

whose lap has room enough

for all.

Come, God-over-us:

who watches

in the long silence of the night,

that we might rest in your peace.

Come, God-beside-us:

who steadies us

when we falter,

who lifts us up

when we fall.

Come, God-behind-us:

who picks up all the faded dreams

we drop along the way,

weaving them into your hope.

O come, o come,

Shepherd of your people,

and we will rejoice forever!

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Second Friday of Advent

Please read Isaiah 60:1; John 1:9

mountain ranges stretch down

the block:

the once pristine snow,

dazzling

us with its lightness,

now plowed and tossed aside,

litter-topped with the

skim off the street;

the greyness of the skies

leadens our spirits,

as once more we begin

the sisyphean task

of pushing hope up

mount despair, only to

have indifference snatch

it out of our hands,

tossing it back down,

hollering 'fetch.'

dusklings tiptoe through

the neighborhood,

deluminators in hand,

seeking to abscond with

the joy in each carol,

the wonder in each child,

the hope in each heart,

the promise in the Story;

so come,

Rising Dawn,

your lucent love

filling our every moment.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Thursday of Advent

Please read Genesis 1:1; Revelation 22:13

come:

for

we have scrabbled

all those imaginative words

you spoke at creation -

light, beauty, sky,

grace, water, joy, hope -

jumbling them into a

toxic mess which daily

threatens your dreams;

come:

for

no matter how we try

to juggle the books,

punching in this number

and the next on our high tech

calculators,

trying + and then -

even x a few times,

our lives never seem

to balance out;

from the beginning

to your ending

and beyond,

from a to z

with all the words

in between,

from our first breath

to our last hope,

come,

Alpha and Omega,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Wednesday of Advent

Please read Hosea 2:14-15

when we would quickly

insert the key in the door,

offering our cheeks

for the briefest of pecks

before uttering a quick goodnight,

you smile and simply

say, "i'll give you a call

tomorrow" -

so come;

when the server stops by

to warm up your coffee

for the seventh time in an

hour and a half, remarking,

'isn't this the fourth or fifth

night they haven't shown up?'

you hand him the bill

with a double-tithed tip,

whispering (as much to yourself)

"that's okay;

i'm good at waiting" -

so come;

when we've packed up all

your blessings, and put them

out on the front porch

with a note that reads

'if you have anything more to say,

do it through the lawyer,'

you send two dozen red roses,

along with a singing telegram:

"I've grown accustomed

to your face" -

so come;

come,

Wooer of our hearts,

with love as soft

as a baby's breath,

come!

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Tuesday of Advent

Please read Isaiah 46:3-4; Hosea 11:1-4, 8

voiceless from constant screaming

for our own way,

bloated after feasting on

our toxic desires,

irritable because of

sleep-disturbed dreams

of more and more:

you would gather us up

like a colicky baby,

gently rocking back and

forth on your feet,

patting us tenderly on the back,

softly rubbing us with grace,

whispering the lullabies

you taught to the angels

so long ago;

so come,

Mother of our hearts,

come.

insistent that you take off

the training wheels (even though

we are scared inside),

knowing more as adolescents

than you could ever hope to learn,

determined to find our own way

even if it takes us from

your side:

you watch from the sidelines,

holding your tongue because

you know we need to learn

how to play life on our own,

you sit in the darkened living room;

staring into the far country

with hopeful eyes, until you

see the headlights turn into the driveway,

and silently tiptoe up to bed;

you answer the phone in the dead of night,

gathering up your keys, your wallet,

your love,

to go down and pay our bail.

so come,

Father of our hopes,

come.

come,

Parent we are convinced we don't need,

with the grace, the peace, the wonder

we cannot live without.

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Monday of Advent

Please read Haggai 2:1-17

come, God-of-our-past:

who has taken the water

pooled in our protective moats

to baptize us with peace;

who has turned the stone

ruins of our feeble fortifications

into bread for our enemies;

come, God-of-our-present:

who would use

the concrete walls we

are putting up between us

and everyone who

prays, looks, thinks, sounds

differently,

to build all of us communities

of compassion and trust;

come, God-of-our-future:

gently easing our foot

off the gas as

we hurtle towards the future,

so we might see

the exit signs

in time to turn off

for the back roads

to the kingdom.

so come,

Desire of the nations,

come

to fill us with the

splendor

of your hope.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

Second Sunday of Advent

Please read Malachi 3:1-4

was it a

desire

to change my

stumbling ways

that made me mumble

'yes'

all those years ago,

or was it more

dread

of ending up in

that-place-that-must-not-be-named?

was it a

longing

to learn a language

so many others spoke so well

(peace, grace, love flowing so

easily off their lives)

or was it that

left-over taste of soap

in my mouth from

using the wrong words?

all down the ages,

from sinners to sages,

with boys and girls,

in grannies and gramps,

was it fear that led them

to confess you

or true love?

come,

Refiner's Fire,

come

with your cool breath

of hope.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

First Saturday of Advent

Please read Psalm 2

weary beyond fatigue,

the strictures and

stresses of these days

knot my spirit tighter

and tighter until

i almost snap;

so come,

massage me with

your healing balm of

wonder.

my soul more arid

than death valley,

my heart seeded with

the ashes of desiccated

hope,

my dreams withering under

the onslaught of hype;

so come,

pour your grace all over

me

til i swim in joy.

perfection piles higher and higher,

expecting neatly creased wrapping,

finely curled ribbon (six inches!)

calligraphied notes for each

person on my list;

so come,

bestow on me the carols

of children who

may mess up some of the

words,

but know the meaning deep

in their hearts.

come

Anointed One,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

First Friday of Advent

Please read Ephesians 2:17-22; 1st Peter 2:4-8

they stand in reverent silence,

clasping their mom's hand

(maybe a thumb in the mouth)

staring wide-eyed

as the massive machines

doze the piles of dirt

this way and that, back and forth;

as the towering crane

gently bends over to grasp

and then lift the steel girders

high into the air where calloused

hands guide them into place,

riveting them to the beamed skeleton;

as the tool-belted and hard-hatted

carpenters, painters, plumbers, electricians

scurry about, sharing their gifts.

while we are standing around

seemingly oblivious to it all,

our hands deep in our pockets

(or our thumbs testing which way

the culture is blowing)

you carefully smooth out

the foundation poured by

those who came before us;

taking a stone from the pile

to make sure it is alive with hope,

your apprentices in hope

mortaring each one to the next

with grace.

so come,

Cornerstone,

come building that kingdom

where strangers become friends,

where immigrants become our family.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

First Thursday of Advent

Please read 1st Timothy 2:1-7; Hebrews 12-24

when those in high positions

gather, protocol must be observed:

precise measurements are taken

for how far apart each sits from the other;

rulers are used for the exact placement

of pad, pens, water glasses, pitchers;

tables are arranged just right,

so that no one has the upper hand.

so come,

to pull the tablecloths off,

spilling everything all over the place;

to push the tables off to the side,

arranging the chair is a big circle,

so close that we have to rub elbows.

when families gather for holiday meals,

protocol must be observed:

never sit Aunt Sadie near Uncle Joe

(they haven't spoken a civil word

to one another in years);

always interject with a funny story

when politics rears it's ugly head;

make sure that everyone ignores

the grief and pain that Buddy

has placed on the table next

to the cornbread stuffing,

praying silently that no one

will touch it.

so come,

moving the place cards around

til lifelong enemies have to sit

next to one another;

listening to each person's beliefs,

fears, dreams, doubts;

touching every thing we bring

to the table with your compassion,

shaping us into the healing

others need.

come,

Mediator of our lives,

come

to disrupt our protocol.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

First Wednesday of Advent

Please read Luke 1:68-79

each morning when i

let the dog out, fear

hands me the morning paper,

eager to spend the

rest of the day with me;

several times a week,

i get a fax or voicemail,

reminding me

of the times and locations of

failures anonymous;

wrap it in fancy sounding words -

outsourcing, downsizing,

restructuring, pinkslipping -

rejection is the gift

that seems to keep

on giving;

with such a toxic environment,

is it any wonder i forget

who i started out to be,

who i long to be?

yet

you single me out,

pulling me close

in a great bear hug;

you whisper of your grace

through the mouths

of children singing

so sweet and clear

on the corner;

you swaddle all my gifts

in compassion,

hope's bright ribbon

tightly curled on top:

for

you remembered,

you will remember.

so come,

Benedictus,

come.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman

First Tuesday of Advent

Please read Matthew 9:27-31; 15:21-28

we gaze longingly

over the horizon, hoping

to catch a glimpse of that hero

who (caped, weaponized, square-jawed)

will come to deal with

all our foes, vanquishing

one and all

but

if we would let you

touch our cataracted hearts,

we might just see you

take off royalty's

purple finery

and wrap a towel

around your waist;

turn your WMDs into

those harvesters

reaping food for

all the hungry;

leave your throne

to sit with us,

sharing the bread of grace

with those whose

dreams are strewn

like crumbs across

the floor of their hope.

so come,

Son of David,

come with mercy

for us,

for us,

mercy.

(c) 2009 Thom M. Shuman