All the years I've written this column, Emmanuel - God with us - has sat with me, helping me shape it into something useable. We've written in relative quietness, sitting alone with my computer in my office or another quiet space. Hotel, hospital or hostel; guest room, garage or great outdoors.
Have I ever told you I work best in absolute, or near quiet? If not, I tell you now. Tell you too, that it feels like God didn't show up this week.
I'm sitting this moment at my computer at a small table in a large city hotel room. For three days, a friend and I have dashed about like the black squirrels traversing these city streets. We've skedaddled from office to conference centre to office to hotel and back again.
Eight feet down the wall, a 42 inch television blares an ad for famous donuts. Friend sits on couch, feet up. Reading, watching, and talking to me and the television. (She multi-tasks well.)
Click. "Ohhh.... my poor legs! I need a hot bath. Don't wanna watch the news. Sheesh, will you look at that? How's the writing going?" Click. "Ohhh, my poor feet! I should have a bath. One more block and you'd've been pushin' me in a wheelchair. Click. "Ohhh, my poor knees! Think I'm gonna go have a bath. Want more hot water?...oh, you've got. Getting anything done? "
Don't expect much from this column. Inspiration bolts on interruption. Reminds me of the day a visiting relative walked into my home office. "Go on," she said. "I won't bother you a bit." She sat in my rocking chair and started reading. I sat in my desk chair and stopped writing. Funny how that works.
Excuse me. Friend has emerged, whistling, from the steamy washroom. I interrupt this thought pattern for a brief conversation fragment, a sip of tea and a ginger snap or ten. God hasn't showed up to help yet anyway.
I tried to find time to write before I left home - too busy. I tried to find time on the plane - too distracted. I tried to find time to write between workshops - too overwhelmed.
Write what you know, they say. What I know is that sometimes God is late for work. What I know, especially at this time of year, is that life leaps forward like a furry black rodent, but God doesn't rush. What I know is some days drone on like an inescapable revolving door (don't ask - I don't get to the city often) and it feels like God has gotten stuck. What I know, too, is that rarely, with holy hush, life presses pause - and we find God again.
Let me write something else I know, after years as a practising Christian. Regardless of what it seems, God is as present in the race and revolving door as he is in the pause.
What do you know, these frenetic weeks before Christmas? No matter the clatter, Emmanuel - God with us - is with you now. Believe it. Prepare him room.
