In this Issue:

Nativity, Maysville, moves forward undr Kibler, Kilbourn-Huey

Episcopal Church Breaks ground for a new building

Lewis and Narnia: Episcopal Heritage

Seed Planting

Out of Deep Waters: Second line brings new life to New Orleans

Commentaries

From the Bishop: The Yearnings of our hearts

Reflection: ...and Christmas comes once more

X-ercizing: Packing and unpacking Christmas

Diocesan Calendar

Past Issues

Reflection: ...and Christmas comes once more

By Kay Collier-McLaughlin

The Advent wreath hangs on the kitchen door. Each day one of the small, beaded felt ornaments is added to the tree, marking the move toward Dec. 25. Christmas is coming. The Advent calendar tells me so.

But there is another coming — a very personal one — which has nothing to do with the counting of days, the commercial shop-tillyou- drop Christmas, and everything to do with a quiet, sure knowing
that once again, despite it all, Christmas comes.

Comes. The word is abundantly weighted. It had a dramatic naming in my life the year that early Advent brought with it the death of an extended family member. The idea of Christmas coming felt
almost insulting in the face of overwhelming loss. And yet, somehow, there was a moment when, as the hymnist says, the dark night woke, the glory broke — and Christmas came. When I expected it least. The coming, of course, was not dependent on me or life circumstance at all.

And so it was in early Advent this year I joined a daughter and new granddaughter for Brunch with Santa at the Cleveland Zoo. The snow had started the night before, and in parts of the city, had deposited more than 12 inches. We entered a wonderland of pretend snowtipped villages and toy trains with real flakes on our faces. There were craft makings for little hands, and a not-quite-plump Santa with a Midwestern Polish accent. After the activities and requisite photos were done, Santa escorted the children and accompanying adults aboard a tram for a visit to his reindeer. We headed for a section of the zoo known as the North Trek.

We traveled slowly on the narrow winding roads through natural habitats. The polar bears watched us lazily from their rocks; the seals and sea lions frolicked in their icy pool. We rode shoulder to shoulder
with a bus full of strangers, off to see Santa’s reindeer. Smiles of anticipation were on every face. Hope seemed in the air.

If I were to re-trace the journey, would I know when it happened? Probably not. But as I tell the story, I feel it all again. Snow-covered branches grey-brown against a wintry sky. Stately camels beside the road. The reindeer waiting in the fi eld, their antlers echoing the pattern of the branches overhead.

It was coming.

Inside myself, distinctly, I heard..

In the bleak mid-winter, frosty wind made moan
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone
Snow had fallen, snow on snow
Snow on snow
In the bleak mid-winter, Long ago.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there
Cherubim and seraphim, Thronged the air…

We left the tram at the reindeer fi eld, to walk the rest of the North Trek. Visited the wolf house, looking hard into the rocky, winterbrush terrain to fi nd the three fi nely muscled animals moving about.
Saw a majestic lion sitting on the cliff, a smaller cub curled at his side.

White-quiet everywhere. Footsteps sound on the snow. Breath turns to fog in front of our faces. Then on the cold clear air, the voices of choristers: “O come let us adore him…”

Christmas came. Christmas is coming. Christmas comes.

Many somewheres, there are people for whom the thought of a joyous holiday is far more than a contradiction. There are the realities of tsunamis, war, hurricanes, tornadoes, fl oods, accidents,
illness, death, loneliness. And into even the worst reality comes the indisputable fact that the child born in a manger came then, and comes today, for me, and for all of this broken, struggling world. I
do not need to feel it to make it true. It is. And that very mystery continues to break into my life with glimpses of grace that allow my soul a knowing beyond all understanding.

Christmas came ...at the Cleveland Zoo.

Be watchful in this Advent. One never knows when or where the gift will come. But the soul will know.

The dark night wakes, the glory breaks
…and Christmas comes once more.

Advocate Online Staff:

© 2005 The Episcopal Diocese of Lexington

The Advocate is mailed free to all Episcopalians in the Diocese of Lexington. The Advocate is published 10 times a year (monthly Sept.-Mid-Summer, bi-monthly Mid-Summer-June, July-Aug.) by the Diocese of Lexington, a non-profit organization.

Additional subscriptions: $10 per year and address changes should be sent to: The Advocate, P.O. Box 610, Lexington, Ky. 40588-0610.
The deadline for submitting articles, photographs, announcements, and letters is the last Friday of the month prior to publication. These should be sent to:
The Advocate, Kay Collier McLaughlin, Ph.D., Editor, P.O. Box 610, Lexington, Ky.
40588-0610 (Kcollierm@diolex.org).

Member: Episcopal Communicators; Associated Church Press Office: The Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Lexington, Mission House, 203 East Fourth Street, Lexington, Ky. 40508-1515. For information call (859) 252-6527.

All rights reserved. The Advocate reserves the right to refuse publication and to edit all contributions. Permission required for reprinting.