There is something very different about this season of the year. My wife and I have chosen to celebrate Advent, the coming of the Christ child in our home by reading scripture, praying, and pouring over meditations that friends or acquaintances from Abilene Christian University have written. Our church tradition has NEVER celebrated Advent, with the exception of the church we attended in Abilene back in the day. And, I find that very odd.
Something is different this year. I feel a stirring within me.
I ponder the differences between this year and last year or the year before or the year before that. I suspect that there are several things that make for a difference this year. For the first time, obinutuzumab is coursing through my veins. I get it every week or two weeks, sitting in an infusion room for four or five hours as the drip, drip, drip, drip makes its way down the bag, via the tube, into my IV, and into my body. It leaves me very exhausted. One nurse said that it is cumulative. I believe her. It has a mind of its own. Some days the effects are minimal and others I barely drag around.
Then, in about two or three weeks from now, I'll begin taking a pill form of immunotherapy, a pill called ventaxlata, and I hear it will be rougher than the IV drug. We'll see.
My wife and I are cautious as to where we go and when we go and whether we wear masks or not. I've learned that the only two people who are concerned about my body and its low level of immunity are she and I. I do not go to large gatherings, especially gatherings where I suspect that the setting is a petri dish for COVID or RSV or the flu.
Why do I say all of this? Is it an introduction to a larger story?
The short verse is that I was stirred by a podcast from Ecclesia Houston, a message delivered by Sean Palmer, a teaching pastor there, a minister who was at ACU as a student back in the day when Charla and I were there. We know some of the same people and know some of the same stories.
His message which is linked below, is about magi coming to worship the Christ child. Against all odds, they found the child, bowed down and worshipped and left the child with gold, frankencense, and myrrh, not exactly gifts you'd think to leave a child, or to his father or mother. How about sanitary wipes, diapers, formula, baby clothes, or even a toy that rattles.
They knew to head in the opposite direction from Herod who may have come across as a benevolent King, but they knew better.
Frankly, that is where I am this year. In my weakened state, I can only give what I can give to the Christ child. I can only do what I can do. No more no less. One of the gifts I oftentimes bring is the gift of words in prose or poetry form, but this year, more often than not, those words do not coming.
The cancer in my blood, small cell lymphacytic lymphoma, and the medications to treat it, have consumed more often than not my words, emotions, dreams, and wishes.
During this season, I want to offer to the newborn King words of hope on behalf of a marginalized people. If you follow the words on this page, you know who they are. They are Black farmers, women and men whose DNA is in the soil, whose blood is in the soil, who want nothing more than to work the land and to pass the land on to their children and grandchildren. Yet, in the way of their aspirations stands the monolythic agency with its myriad of sub-agencies, the United States Department of Agriculture. It is rife with all forms of malfeasance and corruption. Those who want to do good are often kicked to the curb by those who value sameness over change. Search out the names Stucki and Rosenberg and you'll read what I'm talking about and have heard since 1994.
I'd like to offer them more during this Advent season. On some days, maybe the words and ideas and directions will come. On other days, words, ideas, and directions will not come.
So, all that I have to offer the Christ child in this Advent season is some measley leftovers. Leftovers from fatigue, IV drip, insomnia, and SLL.
Come, o come Emmanuel. Come into our world. Redeem our world. Save us from ourselves.
Here is Pastor Sean Palmer's message for Advent, week one.
https://ecclesiahouston.org/liturgy/2023/11/27/searching-for-jesus-advent-week-one.
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