Advent word for the day: Sprout

Trust in the Lord and do good;

dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture.

Take delight in the Lord,

and He will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:3-4

We are called to faithfully sow seeds that will take root and sprout in the promised days that are surely coming. So be curious and watch for those sprouts of hope and be alert to the wonders that abound today. May your marvelment inspire you to keep on sowing. -K. C. Robertson

Last night, like every Thursday night, is Mimi night with the girls.

And there are lots of little routines that have developed over the years, If we are having a sleepover at Mimi’s, the first thing that happens is that we light the fire and the two green candles, and Simone marches over to the bookcase and gets her special books, a tiny boxed collection of Maurice Sendek’s: One Was Johnny, Chicken Soup with Rice, Alligators all Around and of course, I don’t care Pierre. This little set is tucked under one arm and the snuggly bear under the other the whole night long.

We make pasta, putting a little bit of milk in it, just like the Italians do. And we eat berries. The most important thing about dinner is the tea served in the small Iraqi engraved glass teacups with saucers, and the tinkling sound that the spoon makes when we stir in the tiniest bit of honey.

Then we play a BINGO game that involves E. reading the sight words on the cards and then matching them to our cards and shouting BINGO as soon as we get three in a row. After the cards are all neatly stacked back into the box, each girl gets to pick out three books. Well, Simone has her four and we pile them onto the bed before we brush our teeth, use the toilet or get our diaper changed. Sometimes there is time for a bath in the clawed-foot tub, but sometimes not. Sometimes Maria the housemate is there, and she is always fun, but sometimes not.

Now at Mimi’s, E insists that the very last book is always Tolstoy’s Papa Panov’s Christmas about when a lonely Russian shoemaker drinks his soup and coffee and waits for Jesus to visit as He promised, but the only ones who comes through his door is the poor street sweeper and an unmarried mother with her infant, and still he waited. Did he miss Him as he served them soup and gave away a small pair of perfect shoes?

When we are at Momma’s and Daddy’s the routine is pretty much the same, except the books are always a fresh lot from the weekly trip to the library.

Last night we read a book about Mrs. Maple, a woman so small that she rode a bluebird on her journeys. Her life was all about seeds. She traveled the world gathering lonely, abandoned seeds and carried them back to her very cool treehouse. She stored them all winter long in her tiny cozy home, waiting for the darkness to pass. And just as the light of spring dawned, she sent her seeds floating in the air, sailing down the streams and digging deep into the damp forest soil. Then her job was over.

Her job was the seeking and noticing and gathering and nourishing.

The sprouting wasn’t her job.

That belongs to Him.

May I be alert to the wonders that abound today.