One Advent Vignette, Justified

Because 2020 is … well, 2020, and our dear girl is a champion of sleep resistance, I’ve been desperately wanting to write and yet completely unable to come up with something long-ish that’s coherent. I think in the last 11 months I slept more than four hours in a row …. three times? Sorry, universe shmuniverse, I don’t have the mental capacity for a thoughtfully organized post right now. But because writing, even in a half-assed kind of form is good for my soul, my mental health, and at least sometimes for a balm or gentle edification for others, here goes! I’m going to offer a few short musings/ vignettes on recent happenings; maybe it’s worth something. Edited later to add: Guess what! I didn’t have time for multiple musings. Just one. You get one vignette.

(Moment of self- pep talk. It is worth it, Hope! Even if actually no one reads this, doing what’s “useless” for its own sake is what makes us purely human. Yeah, right! Humph! Don’t even just take my word for it. Josef Pieper will back me up).

But then, traditional wisdom has always understood that there are also human activities that do not serve some other purpose and so are not servile. These are the forms of activities to which everyone, including the working man, is entitled, even as a fundamental right and necessity

Josef Pieper, Art and Contemplation, p. 20

A bit later, he continues:

“What constitutes, here and now, an activity meaningful in itself?…Whenever in reflective and receptive contemplation we touch, even remotely, the core of all things, the hidden, ultimate reason of the living universe, the divine foundation of all that is…. whenever and wherever we thus behold the very essence of reality – there is an activity that is meaningful in itself taking place.”

Josef Pieper, Art and Contemplation, p. 23

Only I could use half of my post space to justify writing said post. Well, humbug to myself. Just gosh-darn muse already, Hope!

Vignette 1: The Incarnation: God has a nose.

There’s not much time in the life of parenthood 2020 style for receptive silence that can receive insight as gift a’la Pieper’s thoughts on contemplation… what does that mean for the souls of parents?!? I’m still adjusting to that. But sometimes in learning the world through our Anne-girl’s eyes, little gifts are given.

The scene is helter-skeleter. The bin of toys with cubed pastel blocks, a variety of funny, fluffy animals, and an already worse-for-the-wear “Mr. Teddy” have been unceremoniously dumped on the floor. The wicker bin for her books is likewise mostly emptied, and the board books are strewn about half of the dining room floor. Where there are no toys or books, there are crumbs: dried up Cheerios, shriveled pieces of broccoli. I swear, we vacuum as often as we can, but … she’s terrified of the vacuum, so that’s not as often as it ought to be!

A few other curious objects are sought out and then left under tables and chairs for objects more deserving of Anne’s attention: Mama’s socks (pulled from an unknown locale), multiple blue Tupperware lids (the best teethers money can buy, apparently) and her baby booties that snap.

She likes to take a small pile of these and throw them around, turning herself in circles crawling, almost like a small dog chasing their tail, but she chases little interesting and soft objects. But this day (and many other days since), none of these objects keep her attention for long. What does?

Two separate items. The first, a small diptych portraying replicas of a stained glass window of Joseph and Mary in one of the hall chapels at the University of Notre Dame. This sits, perched high on our windowsill in the dining room, and Anne loves it beyond all things. If we ask her, “where are Joseph and Mary?” she quickly, insistently, confidently points, “eh!!! eh!!!” and more often than not, she demands with further gesticulations that it be brought down for her inspection.

And when she does, she keeps pointing to Mary and then Joseph’s (or Joseph’s and then Mary’s) noses. She looks up for recognition, as if to say, “See Mama? See Papa? They have noses like you, like me.”

And she does the same thing with our crucifix.

Ave Crux, Spes Unica!

The saints have noses. God Himself, who made everything, who loves me and gave of Himself for me, who wants to draw close to me and “abides with us” now… has a nose.

Isn’t that lovely?