I found myself dancing at a Rexall drugstore today.  It was somewhere between the condoms and the pain killers, I think.  The strangest of places, I must admit, but there you go, the grace of God knows no bounds. 

In Toronto, at the corner of College and Bay, gliding through the aisles of the drugstore with a lift to my feet and a lilt to my heart.  And the source of such public behavior?  Over the store's PA system emanated the seductive voices of the Spinners, that long-running American soul group, with their 1975 hit song They Just Can't Stop It (Games People Play). 

Whenever I hear that song, my body has to move. 

Immediately to mind came another song that moves my heart.  It's the one by Kenny Loggins, House on Pooh Corner, based on the popular childrens' book of the same name. 

It was the summer of 1982.  I was terribly in love with Maureen, finishing my Masters of Science at the University of Florida, thinking about the Jesuit priesthood, and about to move from Florida back to Newfoundland.  Needless to say, I was terribly confused.  And this song was Maureen's and my song.

Maybe the journey of Christopher Robbins and Winnie the Pooh was my journey "under the branches lit up by the moon."  And I had indeed "wandered much farther … than I should and I couldn't "seem to find my way back to the wood." 

I eventually entered the Jesuits – and the rest is history.  Maureen eventually married and had one son.  In her late 20s, Maureen died of cancer. 

As I write, I listen again to the journey of Christopher and Pooh.  Those summer days of 1982 have returned – at least for a moment.  I dream of what life those days gave me.  I muse on what could have been. 

I don't know what causes me to dance when I hear the Spinners.  But, when I hear the song of Christopher and Pooh, I know what it does to me – it gives me sadness, delight, lament, joy, and so much more.  I wish that I could explain it all, but I can't.  It's downright impossible. 

Maybe that's the way it should be.  Life is simply life – but it can be complex.  We go on in time, each moment and each person affecting us eternally.  We've often oblivious to it all, caught up as we are with the quotidian of life.  But, I hazard to say that love and pain are never too far below the surface.  Nor should they be, I suppose.  That's what makes life so good, so pure.  We are crafted into the image of God.  Never hardwired, but rather molded into love by Love.

Be attentive therefore.  Advent is a time of waiting, of keeping alert.  The next time you are moved by something, no matter what it may be, rest with it.  Savour it, taste it, smell it, and drink it in full … in a word, contemplate it.  Let it take you where it will.  Let it be an angel announcing to you the impossible, the forgotten, the misplaced. 

For, in the end, all is grace – even as we make our way among the condoms and pain killers.