I wish you transcendence

My husband Jay and I share a deeply-held wish, that this Christmas, and however many more Christmases we may have, may be transcendent.
By "transcendent," we mean we seek a deeper connection with the awe-filled mystery of a Creator who is so much greater than ourselves, yet who knows what it means to inhabit a body of flesh, blood, nerves and bone.
We seek to know better the First Cause, who set stars light-years apart in a universe more vast than we can fathom, yet who knows the number of hairs on the bodies of every creature the Creator made and loved.
We crave paradox. We seek mystery.
And miraculously, at times, we find it in ordinary life.
Let me name the ways I have experienced transcendency in this holy Advent season.

• By participating in my church's Advent focus on eradicating hunger, I have food-shopped for struggling families and bought them foods that are more healthful and wholesome than many so-called "poverty foods" -- foods like apple sauce, whole-wheat pasta, vegetarian marinara sauce and hearty chili.
• By "adopting" an anonymous 95-year-old woman, whose tag I picked from a giving tree because her favorite color, aqua, is a color that my late mother loved, and a color in which Mom looked sensational. It's not the same as having Mom here with me at Christmas, but in a way, it met both my needs and those of my unknown recipient; if anything, I am more blessed than she is.
• By being led -- Spirit-led, I believe -- to a story that needed to be told, and told in this season. Today I made an unplanned trip to Portage, to see if I could find a story in the Garden of Angels,  an amazing ministry created by a woman named Joanne, who deals with her husband's suicide death by planting a vast, colorful and amazing garden during the growing season and inviting any and all to enjoy it. New this Christmas: An invitation to anyone to decorate one of the live pine trees surrounding her garden, in memory of someone they love who's no longer on Earth for Christmas. 
• By standing in a dairy barn with about 50 other people tonight, and remembering -- experiencing -- how Jesus came into this world, with all its noise and messiness.
• By remembering that, at this time a year ago, I had dropped 95 pounds since commencing warm-water physical therapy, and rejoicing in what I came to know as an authentic conversion experience. Now, depending on the day, my weight loss stands at between 130 and 135 pounds.

Do I "feel better?" Yes and no.
Yes, I rejoice in being able to walk without pain, to climb out of the pool with the ladder after swimming laps, to use the stairs instead of the elevator, to enjoy riding the recumbent stationary bike while watching an hour of HGTV.
But, as you know, there are new health challenges -- atrial fibrillation, and now a diagnosis of sleep apnea. These are things that happen to a body as it ages. They are reminders that eating more healthfully, moving my body and reducing my size do not solve all problems, nor do they guarantee perfect health.
But I believe I'm more able to face these new challenges, and any others that may show themselves in the months and years to come.
My doctor praises me for being her "most resilient patient," and I revel in that, because I respect her so deeply.
But I can never stop watching and praying, and can only hold onto my health gains by being intentional and vigilant.
If I don't write a new blog entry before 2018 draws to a close, may I wish all who read what I write a joyous, healthful and transcendent New Year.