At this point, most of the leaves are down on the St. John’s rectory and campus. Here and there are tucked-away piles of leaves blown into discrete corners, some of which I occasionally stomp through just to recall that delightful crunching sound from my childhood. I used to love to play in piles of leaves. My friend’s yard had so many leaves that we would create forts out of them…depending on how many of us there were, we’d create two or three piles and would hollow out a space in the middle of each and then would declare war on each other. Years later I realized that it was my friend’s dad’s clever ploy to get us to do his raking with the promise that we could have our fortifications up until the threat of the first rain! Towards the end of the summer we’d already be thinking about fall, so we could continue our aspirations towards the art of castrametation—the technical word for building encampments and fortifications.

We had the best time fighting against imaginary foes, even sometimes setting up tents inside our leaf fortresses and camping out.

Of course, along with the luxury of this abundance of leaves and the great outdoors comes inevitable perils. My friend and I both had several dogs on our farms. And occasionally we’d be in the height of our “battles” when a dog or two would come by, take a sniff, and decide this was the perfect place to relieve himself. But I suppose that’s the cost of doing business.

The writer and poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer offers a daily poem, and over the past few months I have come to incorporate her daily offering into my meditation and devotional time. I came across this poem (pictured right) about a month ago. In “Things to Do While Trapped in a Bank Vault”... Rosemerry contemplates the pitfalls of an inner childhood aspiration of wealth forever.

Count the cash. Make stacks of cash.

Tall, teetering towers of cash.

Watch them crash. Build them again.

Whole green cities of cash.

This was what you dreamed of, yes?

Wish you had a sandwich. Maybe

a glass of wine. Heck, how about

a glass of water? Tap water’s fine.

Notice your stomach grumbling.

Think about eating a dollar.

Decide you’re not that hungry yet.

Make the bills into fans.

Fan yourself like the queen of cash.

Wish someone else were here

to join this dream. Is this a dream?

Please let this be a dream.

Wish you could use all this cash

to buy something. Like a sandwich.

Like a ticket to Hamilton. Like a key

to get you out of this vault.

Like a glass of tap water.

Like a window to see the sky.

Why did you ever think you’d trade

what you had for all this cash?

What you wouldn’t give now

just to lie in summer grass.

And eat a peanut butter sandwich.

And stare at the sky as it changes colors.

That genie was right.

Be careful what you wish for.

The poem reminded me of my fortresses of leaves, even if they were sometimes pungently punctuated by our respective canines. This poem has stuck in my mind. What kid didn’t dream of being Scrooge McDuck and swimming through piles of gold coins? But as an adult I think, ugh, what a burden. Wishes of our past can sometimes become the hardship of our future.

Gone are the days of the Sears Christmas Wish Book—by early November I would have already had my entire Christmas list doubled and tripled (if only I had that vault, if only those leaves were dollar bills, 9-year-old Josh would say). Now, nearly forty years later, I still hold wishes for this most wonderful time of the year, but they’re a bit different now.

We wish and hope that our loved ones are safe and that they will be able to be with us for the holidays. We wish and hope that everyone will get along around the dinner tables. We wish and hope that our favorite Christmas Carols will be sung. We hope that what we thought we heard our loved one say that they wanted for Christmas, will make their wishes come true.

And some of us have wishes that may not be fulfilled. A wish to have one last holiday with a loved one, a wish that a work deal or a promotion will make all things perfect, a wish that our child gets into their dream school, a wish that our loved one doesn’t really fall for and settle down with their current significant other. Some wishes are impossible to make come true and some wishes are completely out of our control. And sometimes the things we thought we wanted, should they have come to pass, would have been a recipe for disaster and heartache.

This is why we put our trust in God and this is why there is comfort in the perfection of Jesus Christ, but there is also imperfection baked into our reality. In the greatest joy of an excellent leaf fortress our bliss can be torn asunder by a deposit from Fido; the bumper sticker is true: “stuff” happens. And still God is God. And God is forever God-ing—working with us despite our inadequacies, despite our attempts to be king or queen of everything, despite our colossal ability to become dependent on wishful thinking, only to have our hearts broken.

And still God persists. And still Christ will come again, with great humility.

Weeks ago, on the day after Halloween, retail stores were switching out the orange and black for green and red, making ready a (retail) highway for Christmas. And we will soon be making the switch at St. John’s. Preparing our homes, changing church paraments, cutting (and selling) greens, practicing our lines for the Pageant (12/15), tuning up our voices for Lessons and Carols (12/22), and hoping and building our wish lists for how we hope God will come among us. Not just for the Twelve Days of Christmas, but to make a lasting impression of the goodness and love of God and the true treasure to be found in our life together. 

What is the point of all the wealth in the world, if we are locked up by ourselves, with no food, no water… be careful what you wish for; find Peace and Joy and Hope in the world as it is; and then share with others.

The Rev. Josh Walters

Rector