I've had a truly crummy day, and don't feel like blogging.
I've had to talk to both my children - separately - about academic integrity today while keeping in my anger that the new phone/Internet/cable was down when I needed to be doing urgent things online; that the dog had seen fit to wolf down an entire box of doughnuts AND a bag of frosted pretzels; that the garage door opener has gone on the fritz and will require an expensive repair call; that our planned family trip to Ireland next summer has been seriously jeopardized. It's also my son's 16th birthday today, and has been possibly the suckiest one ever for him, since we've had damp or dangerous weather three days in a row now and the State Police will not conduct the driving portion of the license exam. In addition, Angi put together his favorite red velvet birthday cake mix and left it in the oven to help preside at UALR's winter graduation ... and I followed my nose to its singed remains about an hour ago. If she said anything to me about it when she left, I didn't hear her two rooms away.
If you want to read something profound and seasonal and spirit-lifting, read John Mark Hicks's blog entry, Christmas: The Incarnation of God and/or Royce Ogle's Merry Christmas.
I wish I could put two cogent thoughts together right now, but I can't. I wish I could weave a great tapestry of meaning on how I wish Advent could be about shouldering the responsibility for being God-in-the-flesh as Jesus was rather than about indolently anticipating His return as if we had nothing better to do. But Paul already wrote the second letter to Thessalonica and I know I couldn't do better than that.
Nor could I do any better than the two brothers I linked to above, who understand what Incarnation means and the sufficiency of it - and write about it powerfully and persuasively.
This evening I learned that incarnational living sometimes means dashing out in the <1/4-mile visibility fog to go to Kroger's and pick up a couple more red velvet cake mixes and a small bottle of cooking oil, recruiting my daughter to help me clean up the cake pan and mix the new one and pop it in the oven before Mom gets home and brother comes out of his room.
She helped a lot. As we were cleaning up again a moment ago, she said, "That was fun! I know you were having a bad day today. It's better now, isn't it? You were lucky I really didn't have homework tonight."
And she was, of course, perfectly right.