December 2
The First Week in Advent

              Yesterday Phyllis was outside when she heard a strange thumping noise coming from the window high up in the barn.    She climbed the steps into the loft and discovered a female cardinal, desperately throwing herself against the glass, trying to get out.   This frantic bird, following its instincts to fly toward the light, could not do the calculations that would require her to fly down through the opening in the floor to find her freedom.   In the end, Phyllis cornered the frightened creature, scooped her up in her hands,  cradled her against her body and carried her down the steps and out into the bright December morning.   Phyllis could feel the wild beating of the bird's heart.  The terrified creature could not know that the hands around her meant no harm, but only good. 
            We, too, often bump into the windows of our own limited vision, repetitive and self-destructive habits, and futile stubbornness.    And sometimes it is grace itself that hears the thumping of our hearts, enfolds us in kind and fearsome hands, and offers us some freedom that we can barely understand.     That is, of course, our Advent hope.

CARDINAL IN THE BARN

Lord of wings and feathers,
you who knows when a sparrow falls
and takes joy at the morning song of a wren,
Shall I dare to let you
gather up the bright bird of my heart
in your great hands
and set it free?
I am caught, frustrated, and afraid.
I can not find my way out,
though I may perish in trying.
And you, so great and fearsome a stranger,
may carry me in a direction
I do not understand.
But I am weary of struggling
toward the light I can not reach.
Come.
Take me.

--Timothy Haut, Dec. 2, 2013