It's one week till Christmas, and I was going to spend some time today working up a post on Twilight, including red-pen commentary, enthusiasm about Meyer's characters and certain of her descriptions, and gratuitous snark about Catholic hymns—but I was out shopping four hours, and my brain has had all it can take.
The Ghost of Christmas Present seems to be saying to me, "Don't feel so obligated to do so much; just quiet down and experience the season," but it hasn't been saying how. I got a whisper this afternoon, though. Just a soft little thing: "Your inbox isn't so full of advertisements today: have you noticed?"
For the first time today, it felt like Advent. Which had mostly to do with crawling out of bed in the dark at ten to seven this morning, driving down to church, and spending an hour with Christ—with the candlelight reflecting off the monstrance, a whole row of little votives burning under the Fatima statue, and a cloudy dawn picking out the gray-greens in the stained glass for first light.
My mind was still so busy that it took me most of the hour to get through Lauds (morning prayer takes about ten minutes to read), but there was peace in just kneeling with my eyes open.
Speaking of the Liturgy of the Hours: the O Antiphons come but once a year, so here's today's:
Blessed Advent! Peace be with you. :)