An Advent Prayer for those Grieving in Connecticut by Bonnie Harr

Prayer by Bonnie Harr

Bonnie Harr posted this prayer on the Light for the Journey Facebook page last night. As we all grieve for the families who have lost loved ones in Connecticut

Wading Through Hot Chocolate and Cloudy Skies an Advent Reflection by Kim Balke

Today’s Advent reflection is written by Kim Balke who tells me: I have been a leaf chaser and cloud wanderer since early childhood.  I grew up in southern Ontario near the Great Lakes and my family roots are in Nova Scotia, where I have been a beachcomber for mermaid’s tears (beach glass, especially the blue ones) over 10 years. I now live on the West Coast in a small community, Tsawwassen, BC, surrounded by ocean and river mystery.  I have been married to Tom, fellow wanderer in creation, for 29 years and we have two young adult sons, one dog and a huge family of stick bugs.  I credit their growing years as my unofficial  PhD dissertation in wonder, observation and reflection.  I am an Expressive Arts Therapist in private practice and work with children in 3 schools in the Lower Mainland of Vancouver.

Wading Through Hot Chocolate and Cloudy Skies

Hurting people billow about me,

darkening grays, aging ways,

black and purple-blue hues;

a hollowed out sky before me

in the form of needs, misdeeds,

unkempt, messy vapours diffusing light and tell-tale sight

around my landscape.  Let them go, too heavy to hold.

 

Falling, falling inevitably down over autumn leaves

in a colour leeching rain; a desired disintegration into ground,

the still, waiting space and time for growing something good … later.

 

Here and now is damp and cold;

a stick stirring a muck of memories,

a jump in puddles day;

watch the slough carry leaf boats downstream and away,

far away to adventure lands;

catch my breath and here I go

into William Blake’s “eternity in an hour”

flowers, unfolding long forgotten freckle faced smiles

of an incognito princess ship wrecked on new shores;

in the dirt on her tattered sleeves, the gifts of Magi sustain her;

in the wet socks hanging to dry, shepherds guard flocks at night.

She is waiting for…no…

she is wading through hot chocolate!

Her face peers into steam, Anna- like, searching through temple crowds, wondering.

She finds herself enveloped in rainbow, gloria and God given promises

from an ancient red and black letter book

about a baby-king wrapped in rags, hand me down clothes

from prophets to Elizabeth to Mary;

stitched and mended Metaphor of Meaning

for the fullness of time;

for child’s play in the sacredness of this present pregnant moment

seen in cloudy Tsawwassen skies and me.

Waiting When There is No Hope An Advent Reflection by Christine Sine

The Visitation by James B Janknegt http://www.BCArtFarm.org

Each year my good friend Mark Pierson sends me a copy of his Advent reflections written for the spiritual nurture of World Vision NZ staff. This year he chose the art of James Janknegt whose powerful contemporary images of the Christmas story formed a wonderful focus for my own visio divina meditations each week. This is a prayer tool I discovered while researching my book Return to Our Senses. I find it to be particularly helpful at this season.

Most of my meditations around my Advent theme, Let Us Wait As Children Wait, have revolved around joy, promise, hope, expectation. However, as I contemplated The Visitation I was struck by this fresh image of children waiting that I had not really considered before, the two unborn infants waiting in the loving embrace of the womb, waiting in darkness, waiting in uncertainty, waiting to change the world.

Their waiting must have been filled with a great deal of background anxiety, however. One would be born to an unmarried mother who could easily have been rejected and outcast by her family. The other would be born to a woman past her childbearing age, a wait in seclusion, perhaps because of her embarrassment at this unexpected blessing. Both of them waiting to be born into a turbulent and violent world that would eventually kill them both.

In Janknegt’s painting, the potential of Jesus and John waiting in the womb is obvious – one will become a king, the other a messenger. How many children born today wait for a future in which they will never fulfill their full potential I wondered? For how many is their time in the womb a waiting for an uncertain and vulnerable future?  Perhaps their mothers are drug addicts or refugees born into a world that wants to keep them out of sight. Maybe their families live on the edge of starvation and they are waiting to be born only to die before their first birthday. Some wait for a life of abuse and abandonment, others for a life of suffering and pain.

The waiting of the unborn should be a joy filled season of hope and expectation, that is what we most like to focus on at this season. How I wonder, can I make that hope and promise made possible through the child whose birth we await, become a reality for some of those vulnerable ones at the margins for whom waiting holds so little hope.

 

Advent in a Jar – A New Resource by Jill Aylard Young

I realize that it is a little late for Advent this year but I wanted to share with you the resource that MSA Board member put together after reading resources recommended in the post Celebrating Advent with Kids . It might be a little late for this year but certainly something to consider for next year.

Advent in a jar by Jill Aylard Young

The attached PDF file contains all you need to build your own “Advent Calendar in a Jar”. Simply download the file, print out the pages, and cut the paper into little cards to put in your own Jar. On these slips of paper are activities that you can do as a family or individual in preparation for Christmas.

You will choose 24 slips of paper for your Jar, one for each day of Advent. Then during Advent you will draw one slip out of the jar each day and complete the activity until all the slips are gone and Christmas has arrived. (Note: If you can’t complete a particular activity on the day you draw it, schedule it on your calendar for another day and draw a different one for that day.)

1. Pray for Christ to bless this project so that it will create space in your life or family’s life for his presence and working in you this Advent/Christmas season.
2. Decide whether this is something you want to do as an individual or as a family. The slips of paper with stars are geared for families and those with candles are geared for individuals. Feel free to mix and match if you like.
3. Choose 24 activities2 that would be doable for you and/or your family, but also ones that will stretch you in helpful ways. You can select from the pre-made slips of paper and you can use blank ones to write your own. Also try to select a variety of activities, those that are service-oriented, those that are fun, and those that are reflective.
4. Fold each slip of paper and place it in your jar, which you can decorate as you choose.

Have Fun as you anticipate the coming of our Lord!

Shhhh…Here He Comes an Advent Reflection by Margaret Magi Trotman

Today’s post is written by Magi Trotman. Magi describes herself as a child of God first, an artist and writer married to a former Marine, with whom she shares a farm in NE Florida. They have several 4 legged, feathered, shelled and scaled babies. Off the farm are their grown children and not so grown grand boys and girls who they find extremely awesome.  The farm is a work in progress with crops of Lavender, veggies, weeds and ants.  Magi enjoys photography, reading, writing hand written letters, making her own cards. She and her husband are pretty crafty, making anything out of anything that is or isn’t nailed down. Life is good because God gave it to us and us to each other.

Magi Trotman Creche

Shhhh… here he comes! Or shhhh! He’s coming!

What if it was a surprise party and everyone in the whole WORLD was invited?!  Don’t “shush” the party goers…Lead them to the mountain tops the roof tops the tree tops and SHOUT for joy “HERE HE COMES!!” Like the song says… “Go tell it on the mountains…and everywhere!” (One of my personal favourite Christmas songs)

Let us stop for a moment and put on the hats of our childhood. Forget the meetings and noise, the responsibilities and logic. When life wasn’t looked upon as a science but was really just happy approximates? Let us look at the world through new old eyes.  Remember?  How we watched the process with wonder? When “are we there yet?” meant how much time to I have left to dream  in the scenery passing by?  The magic of anticipation with joyous eyes and knowing smile when cookies glowed under the burner inside the oven rose then settled like a deflating bed of sweet bubbling goodness.  Even if you were a child on a farm, or helped in a garden, you knew…  that waiting was all the best part of getting to the goal.  Watching eggs hatch, a goat born or a crop grow; it’s all in Gods good time when we are all born.  Our Father would tell us to wait and be still, we would answer merely “Okay” and sit in stillness and wonder was God worked his miracles right before our eyes.

Look now through your eyes as a child at how the easy faith in just knowing creates a peace our hearts that Christmas was meant to bring.  I remember the joy of the lights of Christmas, the gifts of course but there was another feeling I always had. I, even as a child would become emotional and silent, almost overwhelmed with the presence that surrounded me. I liked Santa and the pretty papers and especially the songs, but I knew also, inherently, this Gift to mankind in the form of a baby human-

I was allowed to uncover the baby’s statue in the crèche on Christmas morning and did so with such care, as if not to awaken him.  This child, asleep after such a long journey here, so long ago, has never left, even now.  This child, who knew where his life would lead him, where his Father would lead him.  This child, born to us, simply. Waited for his time of completion and perfection… as do we.

Simple Faith – An Advent Reflection by Paula Mitchell

Today’s Advent reflection is written by Paula Mitchell. Paula is a Spiritual Director, retreat facilitator, writer, wife, and mother of four grown sons.  She is the founder and program director of Doorways Ministries, providing days of prayer, Ignatian retreats, and a 9 month program based on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius as ways of deepening our lives with Christ. She is also the city coordinator for the Ignatian Spirituality Project, a Jesuit organization dedicated to offering spiritual retreats inspired by Ignatian Spirituality to people experiencing homelessness.

Giotto Scrovegni – Birth of Jesus via Wikimedia and used under CC license

Jesus, life of the world, Word of the Father, the one who holds all things together,

creator and sustainer of all life, your life and mine, now and forever.

Became one of us, small, needy, dependent, a helpless babe.  A child.

Holding nothing, grasping nothing but his mother’s hand and heart.

He the King of Glory, Christ the King, Savior of the World, came as a child.  “For a child is born to us,
 a son is given to us.
  The government will rest on his shoulders.
  And he will be called:
 Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
 Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

Jesus tells his followers, and you and I, that unless we become like little children we cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.  I wonder what he means?  What is it about being childlike that allows us to enter into the mystery of God’s kingdom?  Could it be we need the eyes, ears and faith of a child to see all of life with wonder, to live with the mystery of what is, and what isn’t, to know we are loved and cared for even when we are small, needy, dependent and vulnerable?

Jesus told his disciples, “The Son can do nothing by himself. He does only what he sees the Father doing. Whatever the Father does, the Son also does. For the Father loves the Son and shows him everything he is doing.”   As followers of Jesus, we too, are invited to live as he did, waiting with childlike hope and anticipation, as we eagerly watch for signs of God’s presence in our world.   We’re called to live with childlike faith and joy as we receive all of life as streams of gifts, given to us, for us, for the life of the world, if only we have eyes to see, child eyes, seeing all of life with wonder and gratitude, proof of our Father’s love and care.

The path is narrow, this life of following Jesus, it’s hard to see where we are going, we frequently lose sight of Jesus, and it often feels as if we’ve lost our way.  When this happens, we are invited to simply wait, trusting his ability to lead, more than our ability to follow.  For we’ve been told a little child, the Christ child, shall lead us, lead us into a life of deeper intimacy with our heavenly Father.  Lead us to experience his deep and constant love and care for us in spite of our mistakes, our need to be important, to prove ourselves and earn his love.  To let go of trying to earn his love; so we can begin to believe the good news that we are already loved, not for what we do but for who we are, whose we are.

We’re invited to let life be simple, believing we have enough, are enough, just as we are.  Bid to relax into Jesus’ arms and let ourselves be cared for instead of being “careful”.  To live life simply being who we are, knowing whose we are.  And if we aren’t sure who we are, as most of us aren’t, to allow ourselves the freedom to discover our true selves in Christ knowing the spaciousness of infinite possibility and surprise.

A child

Childlike faith

Simply living, living simply

Free to be who we are and whose we are

Free to make mistakes

To try new things

To simply show up and watch to see what Jesus is doing this day, every day,

in us and in our world.

To not have to lead the way or save the world.

That’s his job not ours.

Our job is to simply show up-

with all that we are and all that we have

our lives and hearts given to Jesus

the life of the world

for the sake of the world.

To give our love

nothing held back

not playing it safe in case things don’t work out so well

or as we think they should.

That’s what Jesus did isn’t it?

He became small, simple, a child.

And lived a life of radical, simple faith and trust.

Dependent each day on his Father’s love and care

totally abandoned to his Father’s will.

Can we who bear his likeness, who are called to bear the life and light of Jesus into our world, live any differently?  Each day we are invited to wait in eager anticipation, as Mary did, beckoned beyond where we are to a life of radical availability so the life of Jesus may be born anew, embodied, in our hearts and lives and world.  Bid to abandon the state of constant anxiety and worry about doing things right (as if we really could get it right anyway)–to simply let go and let ourselves be cared for like a child.  And so discover Jesus has already got it right, made us right.  That’s his job not ours.

I hope and pray that, you, too, will discover your belovedness as you embrace a life of childlike faith and trust.  As you take the downward journey of letting go of trying to control your life in order to receive the life you’ve been given, accepting Jesus’ invitation to live a life of a childlike faith, full of wonder, mystery, and joy.  Created in love.  Invited to simply share love and grace with reckless abandon with everyone everywhere.

A Celtic Advent Liturgy for the Third Week of Advent by John Birch

This year I am featuring these beautiful Celtic liturgies by John Birch as my weekly Advent liturgies. The focus for this week is Obedience. Check out all John’s Celtic Advent liturgies here.

Responses are in bold print

Symbol: A candle and in front of it a stone (A rock is often used as a symbol for Christ. In the wilderness, Moses struck a rock and it poured forth water to refresh the people. A rock can also symbolize obedience to Christ. St. Peter, whose name means “rock,” is sometimes thus represented)

The candle is lit

‘You will be with child and give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever; his kingdom will never end. ‘

Luke 1:31-33

There were safer places
more comfortable places
palaces and wealthy places
Yet you chose a daughter of the soil
Who would have otherwise
lived a good and honest life
grown and harvested crops
cooked and washed and cared for others
and been forgotten
to be your temporary home
to be exalted for all time

My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed

When does an ordinary life
Become extraordinary
An mundane day
Become revolutionary
A moment in time
Change history?
When God enters in
Forgives sin
Allows us to
Begin again
When we repeat
Those words of Mary
‘May it be to me
As you say’

(A spece for music or a song to be sung – a Taizé chant would be most appropriate)

‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God. Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. For nothing is impossible with God.’
“I am the Lord’s servant,” Mary answered.
“May it be to me as you have said.”

Luke 1:35-38

(A moment of silence – During the silence, you may like to read and reflect on the words that have been read, gaze at the lantern – or simply enjoy the peace and calm )

Into the daily cycle of our lives
When all seems well
With us and with the world
When our yoke is easy
And the burden light
You break in
And scatter our complacency

Into the daily cycle of our lives
When we are comfortable
And at our ease
When the fire is lit
But eyes are closed
You break in
And challenge our dependency

You break into
Our daily prayers
Humble hearts
Lay souls bare
You break in
You break in

You break in
When defences are down
With an Angel’s shout
Or the quietest sound
You break in
You break in

And we change
And all things change
When you break in

O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come again and with us ever dwell

(Scripture reading – possibly the Gospel reading for the day)

(A space for a hymn or song to be sung/said)

(Intercessions – A circle prayer.
Imagine throwing a pebble into the centre of a pond, and the circles of ripples that move out from the centre.)

We pray firstly for those closest to us, our immediate family and closest friends – for their health, needs, joys and fears.
(Silent prayer)
God of creation, God of Salvation
Hear the prayers of our hearts

We pray for our extended family and friends who we might not see each week – for their love and concern, for their wellbeing.
(Silent prayer)
God of creation, God of Salvation
Hear the prayers of our hearts

As the ripples reach out toward the land we pray for those who we only have contact with annually or less – for a blessing this Advent-time
(Silent prayer)
God of creation, God of Salvation
Hear the prayers of our hearts

And as the ripples reach their furthest point we pray for this world and its people – for the needs of this week and the future.
(Silent prayer)
God of creation, God of Salvation
Who speaks to us through thunder and whisper
Who loves us as if there were but one of us to love
Hear the prayers of our hearts

May God the Father bless us;
may Christ take care of us;
the Holy Ghost enlighten us all the days of our life.
The Lord be our defender and keeper of body and soul,
both now and for ever, to the ages of ages.

(Æthelwold c 908-984)

Always Winter and Never Christmas An Advent Reflection by Travis Mamone

Always winter but never Christmas

Today’s post in the Advent series Let Us Wait As Children Wait, is written by Travis Mamone. Travis is an author, a blogger, and an all around wayfaring stranger. He is the author of the e-books “In Praise of the Doubting Thomas,” and “O Come Emmanuel.” He has written for such publications as Provoketive Magazine, Relevant Magazine, The Upper Room, and Burnside Writers Collective. His work appears in the books “Not Alone: Stories of Living with Depression” (Civitas Press, 2011), and “Finding Church” (Civitas Press, 2012). He has also contributed to the Something Beautiful podcast. He lives in Easton, MD and blogs at www.travismamone.net

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Around this time every year, I feel strangely melancholy. Like Charlie Brown, I know I should be happy; Christmas is coming, remember? While I am glad I can finally listen to A Very Special Christmas Vol. 1 over and over again, I still have this underlying feeling of gloom.

Maybe it’s the weather. After all, it is that time again to put away the flip-flops and t-shirts, and break out the heavy coats and sweaters. Plus, the days are getting shorter, so when I get off work it looks like the middle of night outside.

But I think it’s something much deeper than that.

Call me a party pooper, but I can’t help but think about all the people that won’t have themselves a merry little Christmas. I think of the homeless man trying to keep warm, the little girl wondering why her poverty-stricken parents say they’re not going to have a Christmas this year, and the lonely man who is thinking about ending his own life. I also think about my own life and all of the mistakes I’ve made during the past year, and all of the unresolved issues that are waiting for me in the new year. Maybe I am the Charlie Browniest of all the Charlie Browns in the world after all.

It’s no wonder that one of my favorite Christmas songs is “Sister Winter” by Sufjan Stevens, one of the saddest Christmas songs ever. Most Christmas songs are about simply having a wonderful Christmastime. However, if you struggle with mental illness like I do, you know that the dark and cold winter can make you sad. Instead of thinking about all the good times you’re going to have with your loved ones, you can’t help but cry from all the pain you’ve experienced in the past year. December doesn’t just mean Christmas and New Year’s Eve; it also means having one last good cry before the year ends. And I think this song sums it up perfectly:

Oh my friends I’ve
Begun to worry right
Where I should be grateful
I should be satisfied

Oh my heart I
Would clap and dance in place
With my friends I have so
Much pleasure to embrace

But my heart is
Returned to sister winter
But my heart is
As cold as ice[1]

Or maybe it’s all just part of the Advent season.

As we light the Advent wreath and sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” we think about how this world, this life, isn’t how God originally intended it to be. We think about the Second Advent, when all will be made new again, by meditating on the First. We pray for God to give us grace “that we may cast away works of darkness, and put upon us the armor of light”[2] as we prepare ourselves for the coming of Jesus.

Advent reminds me of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, where it was “always winter and never Christmas”[3] in Narnia before Aslan came. I know it sounds like the title of a bad emo song, but once you think about it, this world does seem like it’s in a state of always winter and never Christmas. We see so much darkness every time we watch the news:  war, poverty, crime, corruption, hatred, etc. It seems like we’ll never see the light; we only catch a few glimpses of the occasional flicker.

So maybe all of this melancholy is just my spirit groaning with creation to see the world restored (Romans 8:22-23). Maybe on a deeper level, I know that this isn’t the best we can do. Maybe the reason why I haven’t given up yet is because I know, deep within my heart, that another world is possible.

And one day we will see another world. One day Christmas will come, and then the snow will melt away. One day will see, as Brian McLaren writes it, “the beginning of a new spiritual-historical age or era.”[4]

But first, we must wait. It only when we experience Advent—the season of waiting and preparation—that we can experience Christmas.

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[1] Sufjan Stevens, Sister Winter, 2006 by Asthmatic Kitty Records, mp3.

[2] The Book of Common Prayer (Church Publishing Incorporated, 1979), 159.

[3] C.S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1950), 19.

[4] Brian McLaren, A New Kind of Christianity: Ten Questions That Are Transforming the Faith (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2010), 197.

Everything Will Happen, Just Slow Down and Wait an Advent Reflection by Bonnie Harr

Today’s post in the Advent series Let Us Wait As Children Wait, is written by Bonnie D. Harr. Bonnie is a singer, poet, psalm-writer and artist, clothed in the vocational garments of a clinical nurse specialist and Christian psychotherapist. She is known for her work in creating healing spaces and possibility places within the context of brokenness, or for those challenged in life by disease, relational struggles, spiritual complexities and unanswered questions. Bonnie  lives with her husband near Pittsburgh, PA.

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At a time just before Christmas when we were rushing around preparing for the larger family to gather for all the December birthdays — his included — my only son, approaching his birthday, clutched my hand and said, “Slow down Mommy, you’re going too fast to be my best friend today!  Everything will happen, just slow down, and wait with me.”  His words literally stopped me in my tracks!  Sensing a larger than life moment, I asked him then, “What will we do if I slow down?”  His answer was simple and profound.  “We’ll light candles and drink our sparkling apple cider out of your special glasses and wait.”

I was in the middle of cleaning out the hall closet to prepare for the arrival of guests who would need a place to hang their coats.  I looked at the blue-eyed towhead before me and knew there was nothing in this world more important than lighting candles and drinking sparkling cider from my good crystal glasses with this child.  A deeper glance told me that the years were passing all too swiftly, and that someday soon I might long to have a candlelight chat with a grown son who might not want to have one with me.  I turned out the light in the hallway, and the light in my heart simultaneously affirmed that I was making a right choice.

I got two champagne flutes down — my very best — and the bottle of sparkling cider I had been saving for the celebrations. I sent my child to the drawer where candles are kept, asking him to select his favorite two.  He reminded me we needed four of them and a fat one for the middle.  “It’s mine and Dad’s birthday coming up,” he said, “but Jesus’ birthday is the big one.  I want to light His candles!”  And so, four unmatched candles and a fat one, found their way onto our dining room table, as my child sorta-kinda reminded me that three of the candles should be alike, and one different, but we didn’t have three alike!

As our small ritual advanced, the boy decided we needed a sparkling dish, too — something to put a “wee-snack” on.  I invited  him to make the selection, and we ended up with peanuts on the dish between us.  In the soft golden light of it all, he decided something was still missing.  I waited, watching the wheels spin in his mind.  “We need a special doily, maybe one of Gran’s to put under everything.”  I knew this meant digging through the cedar chest to find one of many treasures my mother has crocheted over the years, but off we went together to find the doily.  He chose my favorite of them all, and we came back to the table to undo what we had previously done and place the doily beneath everything.  It was time to light the candles.

“Will you teach me how to light them?”, he asked.  We had a rather firm rule about matches in our home, and we had promised that a time would come when we would teach him to use them correctly. I knew the time had come. It took a while. In fact, it took a long while. I taught; he practiced.  The match did not light. I taught; he practiced.  He was afraid he would burn his fingers — and so was I; I worked hard to not feed his fears.  I taught; he practiced.  He decided something was wrong with the matches, so I struck and lit one!  “WAIT!!!” he shouted. He tried again, to no avail.  Finally, a match ignited. The priceless look on his face, the glow in his eyes, was worth the wait!  He carefully lit one candle, blew out the match and looked at me.  I wasn’t sure what was rolling through his little mind, so I waited.  “Only one candle before Daddy’s birthday on the first of December.  That’s how I remember it.  We have to wait to light the other ones, and we have to slow down and do it right.”

In that moment, I realized that what I had hunched before about three matching candles and a different one, was right. With fanfare created in his own way, my little son was talking about Advent.

As we shared our cider and peanuts that evening, I let him lead the conversational way.  We talked about many things — why we cry when we’re happy and when we’re sad; that peanuts and “even raisins” might taste better from a crystal bowl; why it was okay and yet sad “once in a while” to be an only child; why he was afraid some nights to go to sleep — “it was that movie three years ago on the kids channel” — hmmm…; my pigeon walk — “You do walk funny, Mom, but I think it’s in style now”; and then we got to his point of that particular evening.

“Mommy, sometimes I feel bad because all my friends have really dark hair, and I have this color.  I’m so different.”  I felt it all.  I left my chair to kneel at eye level with him, as I noted the candlelight beaming in his glistening eyes and the golden fire-sheen dancing through his equally golden head of hair.  “I’m so sorry you are hurting,” I whispered.  I waited watching him struggle with intense feelings. “My sweetness, you are different, and you are special — so very special to God and to Daddy and me.  A lot of people have hair like mommy’s, but yours is like the sunshine or the moonbeams.  Yours is how mommy imagines the angels’ hair to be.  It is so beautiful to me.”  He started nodding his head. I continued as he looked right at me with what he calls “almost tears”. “Remember that sometimes being different is very special to someone, or for someone.  When I come to pick you up at school, I can always find your head bouncing among all the others because your hair picks up a different light!  That is so special for me!”

It was his turn to jump off his chair and throw tight arms around my neck. “I love you, Mommy,” he shuddered through his almost tears. He immediately turned around and blew out the candle, went to the wall switch and turned on the lights. “I have to write something”, he said. What he wrote was worth waiting for, keeping and treasuring to this day.  The next day, he followed it up with a post-it note on the refrigerator door, right near the handle.  That note was worth returning to after I dropped him off at school.

You see, everything will happen if we just slow down and wait.  Advent, like my child that day, invites us to do just that.  Our God has written his love note  in a sparkling eyed babe who lights flames of adoration, each time we wait anew, for His return to us again. Let us, then, slow down and wait.                                                                    bharr  © 11/21/12

Let Us Wait As Children Wait An Advent Reflection by Coe Hutchison

Today’s post in the Advent series Let Us Wait As Children Wait, is written by Coe Hutchison. Coe is pastor of Grace Lutheran Church in Port Townsend WA, former MSA Board chair and a good friend.

Let us wait as children wait—for the Child.

How do children wait?

On pins and needles. In anticipation. There is no question of whether what is being anticipated will arrive, there is only a question of when. It is hard to sit still, the excitement is so great. Let’s wiggle, let’s fidget. Is it time? Is it time?

We are excited, we anticipate because we know it will be good. How do we know it will be good? Because we have heard the stories, we know the stories by heart. The stories of His coming, the stories of His gifts, the stories of His love. We know it will be good. There is no question, no doubt, it will be very good.

As we wait we strain to hear. Do I hear Him there? Is that Him speaking? Is that His voice I hear in another person? Is that His voice I hear in a hymn or song? Is that His voice I hear in the hustle and bustle of the season? Is that His voice in the bank teller, or the exhausted retail worker? Is that His voice in my co-worker or the grocery checker? Is that His voice in my family? Is He speaking through those at the Food Bank, at the Shelter. We listen for His voice wherever we are, whatever we are doing. We strain to hear Him.

As we wait we strain to see. Is that Him there? Is that Him in the video, the movie? Is that Him in the church pew next to me. Is that Him in the children’s Christmas pageant? Is He there in the nursing home resident, the hospital patient. Is He there in our worship, in our shopping, in our celebrating. Is that Him there in our family? We strain to see Him.

As we stretch our ears to hear, as we strain our eyes to see, we are attuned to His voice and our eyes are trained to spot His face. And we do hear Him. We do see Him. Let us watch and listen as children watch and listen, for we will see and hear Him. We know the stories, we know the promises, it will be good, it will be very good. Let us wait, and watch, and anticipate, and fidget, as children do. “For unto us a child is born . . . and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” I can’t wait. I can’t wait!