I took the bus home on the first day of Advent. In fact, I made the bus driver mad because I chased the bus. I was late to it, and he was impatient, but he let me on anyway.
As soon as I sat down, I was aware of the humanity around me. Me, late and hurried. Others, grateful to get out of the freezing temperature. The older man up front, confused, talking to himself. Hope. Loneliness. I think I felt all of it within me too.
I was looking forward to getting home to my family. But for that moment, I was just one of them, nobody special, in need of a bigger reason than myself.
This is my favorite Christmas-time song. I played it as I rode home, and let the story bring me to tears again. It's so predictable, every time I hear it. The drone of the bus hid my emotions, and I just sat there, so aware of Advent, and the coming of Christ to humanity. I prayed that I would not miss him this season, and that my imperfect life could possibly point to him.
Then tonight, I was readying Ann Voskamp's words on Advent..
"It is possible for you to miss it. To brush past it, to rush through it, to not see how it comes for you up over the edges of everything, quiet and unassuming and miraculous - how every page of the Word has been writing it, reaching for you, coming for you. And you could wake on Christmas only to grasp that you never took the whole of the Gift, the wide expanse of grace. So now we pause. Still. Ponder. Hush. Wait. Each day of Advent, He gives you the gift of time, so you have time to be still and wait."
Last year at this time, I was 9 months pregnant, waiting. I clearly remember that feeling of wonder. My baby boy was about to arrive. When would he come? Late? Early? I was so aware of every little change, every zinger of pain, every kick. I was taking it all in.
A few hours before he came, I had a conversation with a friend that was monumental. I didn't feel like I was ready to have him. And she called, somehow knowing I would need to talk. Thank God for friends who point the way. After tears and prayers, I hung up, and laid down to rest, at peace. At midnight, he decided it was time. And in my heart, I knew it was time.
All that led up to that moment was the waiting. And then suddenly, he was here. Less than three hours later, my world was changed. It was a gift to me that my son was born at this time of year, because I can't help but think of that story when I think of Advent.
For all of us, I pray for the grace to take it all in. To not take anything for granted. To experience life, unhidden, unhurried.
Happy Advent, from me to you.
Adventure isn't missing!
