A Tale of Two Advents
Waiting?
Who in the world has time to wait?
For God’s sake I’m trying to accomplish things.
Write, parent, cook, teach, be a friend, watch a sunrise.
Serve those without homes, not walk right by them on the sidewalk
on the way to a lavish dinner.
Preparing?
Oh sure. Loads of that. Multitasking always.
Why just cook when you can also do laundry, check email, update facebook and watch a youtube on how to cut up a pomegranate?
And why just pack for the next trip when you could also be cleaning out a closet or drawer or sorting last week’s mail?
Wrap, write, sort, send, give, do, decide, show.
Attending?
Coffee hour, Christmas parties, play dates, charity fun run, meetings.
Showing up with reserve batteries on for brainpower.
A kind of attending but with only half a heart, half a mind, half a gesture.
And yet another deeper story . . .
Waiting
In the quiet dark listening for the nothingness of presence
Returning ever so gently to a sheltered word
Regathering fragments of self and love and hope and joyfulness
Releasing them into the silence
Preparing
To receive some grace that I didn’t earn
Some happiness I didn’t invent
Some purpose I did not insist
But which are mine and were prepared by ones who love me
Attending
To the smallest inklings of ideas just crowning in the birth canal of new life
Lost shards of grief and wonder mingled and lodged in muscle and sinew
The passing on of long-cherished sentinels of my soul
So the spirit might make way again and break forth
And sing a song with Mary
