To misquote the poet Emily Dickinson, something there is that loves a line. When I was growing up in the 80s in Dorchester, near Ashmont station on the red line, I remember the fights in the press about extending the red line all the way to Alewife from Harvard Station, where it ended at the time. Some residents of Arlington, it seemed, wanted the red line kept out so that some other, less visible lines would kept firmly IN. They expressed concern that poor blacks from Dot were going to get on the T at Shawmut or Field’s Corner, and ride in air-conditioned comfort all the way to Alewife, for the express purpose of burgling their homes. Presumably, then, the would-be burglars would take a cab back to Dot with all their booty.

OK, level with me. You know all about rank. You walk into a room and look around to see who is your equal. You notice who outranks you, and whom you outrank. You notice, so quickly that it may not even register in your frontal lobes - who’s wearing what, the quality of their shoes, teeth, clothes. Before you know it, you’ve noticed, how the folks in the room hold themselves, their posture and how their clothes hang on them. You’ve noticed who owns the room, and who understands themselves to be a guest in the room. You’ve already begun to decide where you fit in and with whom you fit.

Christmas came a little early for a few people this year. It started on a cold Monday a few weeks ago, when Carmen and I went with about 60 other people to the State House, the beautiful building with the gold dome on Boston Common where big decisions get made, and took the elevator up the stairs to the governor’s office, and stood outside his reception area, in the marble hallways, and talked to the Governor for 2 hours. The Governor stayed in his office the whole time, and didn’t hear a word we said, but we talked to him all the same.

It is a good time to talk about expecting, this Advent-time. We have two very pregnant families in our congregation right now: Liz and Ben Davenny are due with their first child, a daughter. She is reputed to be arriving on January 8, very nearly eight years to the day after Ben and Liz met at a First Church epiphany party, and 2 days after their third wedding anniversary. But, she could always come as an answer to the prayers of her very practical and efficient mother, and be born on December 31 in time for the income tax deduction. Or, she could be a procrastinator like many first babies, and wait until the last possible minute, January 22. If she does, a piece of advice: don’t go up to Ben and Liz at coffee hour on January 3, 10 and 17 and say “haven’t you had that baby yet?” as if it’s their doing.

My son has become a reader this year. He recently discovered on his shelf a series of books on science called “I Wonder Why…” They’ve been sitting there for years, pining for a 7-year-old to take an interest in them. The other night Rafe was reading about the solar system when he came running into our bedroom, and he and his book climbed into bed with me. “I just learned that the sun is going to explode in 5 billion years,” he said nonchalantly. “When was this book written?”

My son has become a reader this year. He recently discovered on his shelf a series of books on science called “I Wonder Why…” They’ve been sitting there for years, pining for a 7-year-old to take an interest in them. The other night Rafe was reading about the solar system when he came running into our bedroom, and he and his book climbed into bed with me. “I just learned that the sun is going to explode in 5 billion years,” he said nonchalantly. “When was this book written?”

One of my favorite quotes, which I’ve used before, and reserve the right to use again and again, is from EB White, the children’s author. He once said, “I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world, and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.”

We humans want to be in relationships, most of us. We want to be connected in some way to friends, to families, connected at work, in church. But friendships are messy! Feelings get hurt, we don’t call enough or we call too often.

In precisely two weeks, four days, and five hours, families all over America will gather in homes to give thanks for the blessings of this life. Among those blessings, they will probably name family, whether or not they mean it.