Moon over my driveway

Last night, the moon, full and pregnant with light, pierced the cold darkness. Her luminosity beckoned me to leave the warmth of my kitchen, bundle up and come outside to linger a bit to watch the slow-moving orb make her way across the inky sky. I heeded the call, (several times, actually). I gazed up in wonder at the mysterious light and was reminded of the roundness of things and in particular, the Virgin Mary. Her womb, full and pregnant. Her womb, warm and pulsating with the ineffable Light that comes to illuminate the darkness. Her womb, the center of all things worth contemplating.

It is fitting to ponder such things now.  The Church has entered into the time of Advent, which simply means “coming”. Advent is a time of quiet gestation. Of waiting. Of wondering.  Of pondering.  We prepare for the One who came, who comes and will come again—the great mystery of the Church. The One is Christ whose birth we will celebrate on December 25.

Meanwhile, we wait as autumn gives way to winter, as trees are striped of leaves and as the moon continues to wax and wane. We wait in anticipation, knowing that Jesus Christ is the Light of the world. The light no darkness can overcome.

Moon over Lake Victoria, Kisumu Kenya

It is also fitting that we remember a beautiful Kenyan woman, Adah—wife, mother, grandmother, who died in Kenya on Saturday after a short illness. Adah is the mother of my dear friend, Lorna (Olak) Meeker. I had the honor of dining at Adah’s table more than once during my visits to Kenya. I will remember her for her love of Christ, her grace and mercy to those in need and her unswerving loyalty and care for her husband, Pastor Richard Olak.

My heart grieves with this family at the death of Adah, and yet, we rejoice that she is with Christ—her darkness is completely illuminated by the Light.

Richard and Adah Olak a few years back

Coming soon….updates on the hospice house