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It is the 12th Day of Christmas and the sun is barreling in on me here at the beach house. Ideally I will mail the rest of our cards today in my attempt to prop up USPS, one of my favorite parts of our federal government which of course, is on life support. I know this is not the best way to care for our environment but, hey, I am old. It is a privilege to be able to afford the increasing expense. And I love seeing your names/faces still coming amazingly to my front door in hard-copy communication. I prop your holiday cards up around the house and notice that I think more fondly and often about you. I hope this happens from you to me in return. I believe this is the net of prayer.

Speaking of prayer, I am also fortunate to join in Morning Prayer every weekday morning at 730 Pacific on Zoom. We follow the Book of Common Prayer (for which there is an app). We assign readings and visit beforehand each morning and stay late to chat on Thursdays. We have agreed that if someone is muted or invisible, we won’t ask them to read, because in my case this usually means I am still in bed using earbuds so I don’t disturb Rob, sleeping beside me. Or maybe he has an early infusion at Kaiser and I am listening in.

Or just maybe (and this is unusual), I have the remaining cards spread out before me and am enjoying this love task of connecting wide-and-far even more than ever as I meditate.

Please know you are welcome to join us in prayer any time.

Before journaling today I rustled through recent gifts knowing the day had finally come. I needed to crack open a new notebook. I had shopped at least twice trying to find a Moleskine replacement for my beloved green diary, the one that is now packed full of words and ephemera. Alas, no luck finding what I thought was perfection.

I knew, though, that I already had at least two blank books to consider, each from a special woman in my life. I was hesitant because all I remembered was that both were perhaps too small. But, look, talk about ideal! Together they’ll get me through the year and beyond, Bee Book 1 and Bee Book 2. It’s gonna bee a good year.

As I often say to myself (and probably out loud too), “Just wait, Penny, the answer will become clear.”

This quarter I was the doorperson for Joyful Noise (JN), a beginning music class at the cathedral. It was a blast.

I used to say I’m grateful our kids grew up before rehearsals for the Pageant consumed families’ lives during the first half of December. Then last night I accompanied our JN preschoolers and their parents to the show. I waved my sheep puppet from our field of pews and donned my crown when the Magi processed. I held the assistant innkeeper (one of our 3-year-old students) as the story unfolded while his parents and brand new baby brother played the Holy Family on stage. He was mesmerized, as was I.

There is something very special about being consumed with the real reason for the season during Advent; I’m glad for these families and am exceedingly grateful to everyone who brought this divine story to life. And to Slay Belle (see photo above), our magnificent teacher of the very youngest musicians. Without her encouragement I may have simply opted for livestream.

Of course, it’s hard to imagine peace these days, but then again, I go to the cathedral for the 9 o’clock on Sunday mornings. There’s a carpet along the south side of the nave that’s packed with preschoolers, toys and their parents. We sit as close as we can to the potential mayhem, sometimes in the middle of it. I always marvel at the relative quiet. Playing, making friends, whispering, while the liturgy unfolds nearby. I feel as if I am sitting on the edge of a holy mountain.

The prophet Isaiah described it this way,

“The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them…They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.”

I struggled to get to the ocean this time around. First Rob said he just wasn’t up to it which was hard for me to hear. I debated going alone until my friend Jeanne exclaimed, with glee, “Yes, happy to come along. The change of scenery will be good for both of us.” I needed that nudge and enthusiasm.

We were charmed with three days of warmish sunshine. We enjoyed magnetic invitations to apricate—bask in the bright sunlight—while combing the beach and riding bikes. Welcoming December this way could not have been better.

Plus an art project consumed me while indoors.

I had been percolating about how to use the coloring pages I picked up recently at church, one of a cartoon turkey and one of a jar. Those, plus ice-cubed watercolors and old Nat Geos to clip, made for fun collaging.

My creation kept changing as I played. I filled the “I am thankful for” jar with natural gifts I can see, taste, and hear (because those were the pictures I could find in the magazines) while the turkey became “the wonder and gratitude eagle” (because those were the words I could find to describe her.)

Praise G.O.D, I came home yesterday with restored peace in my heart.