Today is the third Sunday of Advent, and the theme of the day is Love.
Love, and crazy-ass weather.
I rolled out of bed this morning to walk Foxie Doxie, and he was a bit perturbed by the fact that we got to the end of the driveway and I made us go back into the house. My long winter coat wasn’t going to cut it at all – I peeled it off and instead ventured out in a lightweight jacket. It was about 55 degrees out, and sunny.
Yeah, in December. I know!
I went to church, wearing a sweater and a shawl. We talked about love, and how you can’t be angry or hurt if you’re truly living in the present moment. We are in charge of where our minds go, and letting your mind be angry about the past or worry about the future gets in the way of love.
And I was totally in the moment when I left church and it was about 35 degrees out.
I was also totally in the moment this evening when I left my warm little house to join Leeza at her church’s vespers service. I was in the moment when I realized that it was maybe 20 degrees out and my gloves were sitting on the kitchen counter.
The service was Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. And it was lovely.
And my brain was totally not in the moment.
I’d never been to a Baptist church before, although this wasn’t a handling-snakes-and-denouncing-evolution sort of Baptist church (sorry, stereotype). I’m an Episcopalian who attends a hippie, everybody’s-gay-and/or-bi-racial sort of nondenominational church. I like my church because we clap after music. So I sat through this hour-long oratorio, sitting on my hands because I was afraid I would forget and clap. Even though Episcopalians don’t get jazzed up about anything to clap.
And then? And then, I started thinking about The Ex-Boyfriend Formerly Known as Mr. Wonderful.
I loved the way he smelled. I loved the crook of his neck, and how silly he could be. I loved his smile, and the swell in my chest when he flashed it my way.
And fuck you, grief. Fuck you for rearing your ugly head during a Christmas service that’s not about Sad Little Cha Cha, but is supposed to be about eight-pound, five-ounce baby Jesus in his gold fleece diaper.
It was the church’s pale blue walls. They reminded me of the blue walls of Mr. Wonderful’s church, which I attended exactly once.
But, again, it’s the third Sunday of Advent, and the focus of the day is Love.
I loved Mr. Wonderful with my entire being. I am capable of such things. And I will feel that way again, and it will be deeper and better and more.
This, I keep telling myself.