It is raining. I am in my studio, half a table, looking out this dark morning of rain. A good rain is a great cleansing. A sky full of greys, cold, pushing me back into my cotton robe and refilling my coffee cup giving me time to be. I like cold raining mornings. They free me from the hurry of the possibilities blue skies demand me to get things done. Raining mornings allow dawn to go on for hours, allow a third cup of coffee, a chance to listen to that song again, to think of what to write. Instead of writing, I think I will listen to the song again. It was an unexpected visitation from God last night while my lover and I quietly settled into Advent as our evening came to a close. Here is His visitation to you. Good rainy Advent morning to one and all.
Lo, how a Rose e’er blooming
From tender stem hath sprung!
Of Jesse’s lineage coming,
As men of old have sung.
It came, a flow’ret bright,
Amid the cold of winter,
When half spent was the night.
Isaiah ’twas foretold it,
The Rose I have in mind;
With Mary we behold it,
The virgin mother kind.
To show God’s love aright,
She bore to men a Savior,
When half spent was the night.
This Flow’r, whose fragrance tender
With sweetness fills the air,
Dispels with glorious splendor
The darkness everywhere.
True man, yet very God,
From sin and death He saves us,
And lightens every load.
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