Ready or not, Advent comes

I had great hopes for this Advent. I couldn’t wait for the election to be over, one way or another, so we could move on. As both my news consumption and volunteer efforts had ramped up in the final months, I was eager to have that time and energy freed up again. I started making a list - “Hopes Beyond the 2020 Election.” De-clutter. Get off email lists and social media. More time outdoors and digging in the dirt. More focused time with my guys and friends. More writing. More prayer and meditation. I knew I had let myself get lost in the thicket, and I was ready to turn and find my way out.

Turns out it was harder than I anticipated. The election did not end as decisively as hoped, so the relief and celebration were short-lived. Plus there’s this run-off in Georgia, maybe you’ve heard. Watching The Social Dilemma for the second time, I was even more determined to wean myself off Facebook. But like the tech executives featured in the film, even knowing the tricks of manipulation and distraction, I’m still seduced by them. I’ve been unsubscribing like a madwoman from email lists, but it has been shocking and depressing how many there are. No wonder my more recent approach has just been to scroll and ignore to the tune of 45,845 unread messages. And I don’t really know where I thought I was going to get all this new quiet alone time. Over six and a half years into parenting, I still seem to forget, my time is not my own, and it’s rarely quiet. :)

The week of Thanksgiving, I set myself up for spectacular failure. We went to my parents’ in Savannah. In addition to wanting to spend time with them, I had a list of all the things that had alluded me during the pandemic, ok maybe the last four years, or make that six and a half. With some extra eyes and hands on the boys, I was going to get at all of it, at least make a dent.

As it turns out, I was exhausted. I wanted a break, not a different To Do List. My email flooded with the coming of Black Friday, Giving Tuesday, January 5. I drank wine. I played too much solitaire on my phone and got crankier by the day. I gave not a lick of thought to Advent preparation or Christmas gifts. I did not have it in me.

It strikes me that this might just be the best way to enter Advent. Weary. At the end of my own rope. With plans come to naught. Keenly aware of the seductions of the darkness. Unable to save myself. Longing. Waiting. Messy.

I am ever thankful for the seasonal rhythms, both of the natural and liturgical calendars, that give us opportunity after opportunity to begin again. Advent is one of them, and perhaps my favorite. Literally meaning “arrival,” Advent offers four weeks to contemplate Christ’s coming-- in that first Christmas over 2000 years ago, in final redemption at some unknown time, and perpetually in our own lives and times. I love the invitation to get back in touch with our longing, God’s longing in us and for us, for this world that God so loves. I appreciate the challenges to wake up, stay vigilant, turn back to God, and to prepare the way for God’s coming. I even love that for us in the northern hemisphere, it corresponds with days of growing darkness, a dramatic backdrop for the coming of light.

So ready or not, Advent comes. I pull the Advent meditations off the shelf, the wreath and half-burnt candles out of the attic. We light candles, say prayers. Something in me knows and remembers that as dark as it gets, the darkness cannot ultimately overcome the light. I sense the light deep within me, deep within you, deep within the holy heart of all things. And I pray again with Mary, “Let it be with me according to your word,” not according to the world’s tired script, or even my own best-laid plans.

Come Lord Jesus.

Grace and Peace be with you,

Kimberly