Holiday Spirit

Holiday Spirit,
I don’t know where you are
but I certainly can’t seem to
find you.
I’ve exhumed the ornaments and lights.
I thought for certain you’d be there–
nestled between pieces of the crèche
or perhaps
playing hide and seek with the Nutcrackers.
But you weren’t.
I thought if I turned on some tunes–
even the mellow ones–
I’d hear you swooning.
Your voice beckoning me
to sway to tidings of great joy.
Instead I discovered the Cheetah Girls
have a Christmas Album.
I thought maybe just maybe
I’d find you about town
in the crowds of bustling people
maybe you’d be making merry
and some of that would rub off on me.
I found lots of the latest and greatest
gadgets and gizmos
But didn’t feel a single touch from you.
Holiday Spirit
I think sometimes I confuse you
with the Holy Spirit.
I assume you’re the same,
and to be faithful means to feel
the holiday.
This year I release my need for the holiday spirit
and have found
an empty dwelling that yearns
for the Holy.

Plan B

I’m a planner

Always have been.

In seventh grade my Sweet Valley High Calendar

Carefully marked and measured the momentous events of the year:

School plays,

Mall dates,

Movies with friends,

And of course

The last day of school.

I’m a planner.

I was one of those people

That graduated college in mid-May

And had my teaching job by Memorial Day.

Graduated seminary in mid-May

And started my first full time ministry

Before Memorial Day.

I’m a planner

Who has learned from a lifetime of unexpected events

To not only have plan B

But also plans C, D, and E.

How else can a recovering type A, perfectionist

Navigate the uncharted waters of life?

I’m a planner

Who chose to live for this season

Without a plan

Sailing each day

Attending to sky, surf, and sun

And waiting for the Spirit

To blow into my sails.