Today I am thinking about the expectancy of advent. I’ve never much thought about Jesus in the womb. But in these final weeks that’s where he was. Fully formed, just waiting for the moment to be right. Growing and stretching. Anticipating birth.
To be born so that we all might be born again.
I think of my pregnant friends; their bellies stretched to hold a growing child. The promise of life waiting to be fulfilled. It’s here but it isn’t. Like the Kingdom brought to Earth by a tiny babe. It’s here, but it isn’t.
I look at my husband as he holds our children. I see their eyes, all the same, the soft cheeks and red noses of winter and my heart explodes with love I’ve never known before. A gift I can’t deserve.
Her tiny voice reminds us as we get ready to leave. “We should do advent before we go.” So we gather, we light the candle, “Promise!” she declares, we sing, and tonight her warbling soprano joins us on the last word of each line.
I know that she is catching the Christ and I rejoice.
After yoga we lie in the dark room with our eyes closed. I pull on my long sleeved shirt to keep me warm. It’s the shirt my daddy gave to me several Christmases ago. “JOY!” it proclaims on front and back, a seasonal gift for his JoyJoy. In the still room I meditate on the 23rd Psalm, on the rod of the Lord, that breaks my legs so that I will not stray.
My heart aches for a hug I will wait the rest of my life to receive.
This is what it means to be fully alive; to feel full joy and to feel full sorrow and to be grateful.
This Christmas I know the promise is here, but there is more to come.
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